Dear Miss Lonely Love
by ElvishGrrl
Summary: Elena Gilbert has a secret identity - she's the writer behind the town paper's popular "Dear Miss Lonely Love" advice column. Some of the letters she receives stand out more than others. One makes her suspicious a girl she knows might be being abused, and Elena's determined to get to the bottom of it. Another, from a guy with a broken heart, begins a unique correspondence. AU/AH
1. Chapter 1

*******DISCLAIMER*** _I do **NOT** own The Vampire Diaries or the characters associated with The Vampire Diaries. No copyright infringement intended. __The original story herein, however, belongs to me. This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or any real life occurrences is entirely coincidental._

* * *

**Dear Miss Lonely Love**

* * *

**Prologue**

Mystic Falls is, for all intents and purposes, your typical Virginian small town. It can be found in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains nestled into a bend of the majestic Mystic River, about a mile downriver from the falls itself.

Like most American towns, it has a Town Hall fronted by audacious white Doric columns hung with red, white and blue bunting; the square bell tower of the Methodist Church faces off against the pointed bell tower of the Baptist Church across the street, both parking lots filled to overflowing every Sunday; the downtown is lined with false-fronted small businesses that have been there since long before anyone can remember, like the barber shop, the five and dime, the bakery and the Avalon theater; across the street, the town newspaper, _The Mystic Falls Herald,_ flies Ole' Glory proudly from each corner of its awning; and next door resides the Mystic Grill, where the townsfolk gather to eat, drink and socialize.

And a little further down on the corner, just before you'd turn onto Route Four to drive past all the big Colonial mansions along the river's edge toward the high school, sits Gilbert's Coffee Clutch. Inside, once the last patron has left for the night, you'll usually find the owner's teenage daughter Elena Anne Gilbert hunched over her laptop, fingers flying wildly across the keyboard as she completes some assignment or another.

The citizens of Mystic Falls still do most things the old-fashioned way. Sure, modern technology has seeped in – most homes now have wide-screen televisions and computers and PlayStations. Quite a few of the residents own cell phones. But that hasn't stopped people from going about life the same way they always have. The Crow's Nest downtown still does steady business selling books and magazines, although they've added greeting cards and seasonal novelties to their shelves nowadays. The library always services a constant stream of readers. The phone inside the phone booth out front of the Grill is in good working order and gets regular use, especially on a Saturday night. And _The Herald_ still produces a daily newspaper, except on Sundays of course, which is delivered to nearly every household and business in town.

So yes, modern times have come a-knocking, but they've only been welcomed in so far. Mystic Falls is, like many rural small towns, stubborn and stuck in its ways. Change beckons, but is mostly regarded with skepticism. Or, as is often the case here, ignored completely.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Elena Gilbert was fully aware that the citizens of Mystic Falls also still wrote letters - often handwritten ones. They sent e-mails and texts and tweets, some of them, too. But a surprising number still enjoyed putting pen to paper. She would know, because she was the recipient of such personal missives each and every week.

Elena, in addition to her job pouring coffee and serving sandwiches and pastries in her father's café, was also the proud, if clandestine, author of _The Herald's_ weekly 'Dear Miss Lonely Love' column. Only one other person knew she was really Miss Lonely Love, besides her editor that is, and that was her best friend in the world, Bonnie Bennett. She knew Bonnie could keep a secret, so Elena felt safe in the knowledge that her alter-ego wouldn't be revealed.

And secret identity it was. Elena had a carefully crafted persona for Miss Lonely Love. The byline was credited to Shara Strong, and Shara Strong, though fictional, was a Grown Up. Shara Strong was definitely _not_ an eighteen year-old senior at Mystic Falls High – she was twenty-eight, with plenty of experience in the field of dating and romance before marrying the Man of Her Dreams. The regular readers of 'Dear Miss Lonely Love' were well aware Shara was neither a Miss nor Lonely; she made regular mention of how she landed her handsome, perfect husband. Elena assumed, correctly, that if her readers believed she had been so successful in love, they'd be more inclined to trust her for advice with their own concerns.

Which was ironic really, because Elena was nothing of the sort. She was, in fact, single.

She had dated, had a few boyfriends even, but never anyone serious. She thought she was still too young for real relationships, and had spent much of the past year barely thinking about boys. Concentrating on her school work and working her two jobs, not to mention taking care of her father and brother and squeezing in occasional free time with her friends – well, it didn't leave much room for dating.

Not that she had any problem with that. She didn't. She knew she needed to graduate at the top of her class in June in order to win a scholarship to a good college – and therefore escape from Mystic Falls. Falling in love would only complicate her life. And she didn't want complications.

This evening she sat at the counter, almost empty mug of hot chocolate in hand, polishing her column for Friday's paper. She had just finished advising a teenage girl, whom she strongly suspected might be a friend of her brother Jeremy, that she needed to stand up for herself to her controlling boyfriend. Elena was pretty sure Jeremy was between girlfriends right now, but this letter, which had arrived as an e-mail, caused her to make a mental note to question him about his dating status tomorrow. Just to be sure.

Once she was happy with her responses, she e-mailed the document to her editor and shut her laptop. A glance up at the hands of the clock over the door showed she still had ten minutes until she could lock up.

Sometimes, if Elena read a message she felt really deserved a response but she'd already finished her column for the week, she would take a few moments to send the writer a personal reply. So tonight with passing curiosity she pulled the top letter from the bundle in her knapsack.

The writing was small and cramped, with jagged crow-scratch vertical lines. It obviously had been written by a man. Elena was no handwriting expert, but she'd be willing to bet he was a troubled man.

_Dear Miss LL,_

_I've got a messed up situation for you. What do you do when the love of your life dumps you for your brother after you find out she's been having an affair with him behind your back? You thank your lucky stars you're free of her, right? Problem is - I can't stop thinking about her. She stabbed me through the heart, and I left town and haven't spoken to either of them since. But the sad truth is…I'm still in love with her. I'm afraid if she apologized and groveled I'd take her back. Now I'm not dumb enough to think that's ever going to happen, but my question for you is, how do I stop loving her?_

_Just Another Idiot_

Elena pursed her lips as she read the letter a second time. She had answered questions about cheating before of course, but never cheating which involved sleeping with two brothers at the same time, then breaking up with one to begin publicly dating the other. She had to agree with the writer - that was messed up indeed.

Tapping her fingernails absentmindedly against the countertop, she contemplated how to reply. She tried to imagine how she might feel if she found herself in a situation like that, and how she would want to deal with it. She tore out a fresh sheet of paper from her notebook, picked up her trusty Bic and began to write.

_Dear JAI,_

_Even though I can't include your letter in my column - sorry! - I felt compelled to send you a personal reply._

_You're absolutely right. You should just get down on your knees and thank the stars you're free of her. The problem is that reality doesn't always work that way, as you seem well aware. Love isn't something you can turn off like flicking a switch. It burrows deep inside you and holds on tight. The only thing that might help to lessen its grip on you is time, I'm sorry to say. But I think you already know that, too._

_Good on you for leaving town, though. Space and time away from the two of them is precisely what you need right now. I'd recommend you get out and meet people. It might surprise you how new friends can distract from old problems. And you should consider maybe starting to date again, even if it's just casual._

_Be strong. Someday you'll look back on all this and know it was for the best._

_Best of luck!_

_Miss LL_

Elena carefully folded her reply and tucked it into an envelope. The return address was a local post office box, which she scrawled across the front. Looking to the clock again, she noted with relief that it was finally time to head home.

She packed up her things and pulled on her heavy coat, hat and mitts before dimming the lights in the small shop. The welcome bell over the door tinkled eerily as she stepped out into the chilly night and locked it behind her.

Mystic Falls in mid-January after midnight was cold and still. The silence was so overwhelming Elena's eardrums interpreted it as a low roar, a crowd cheering off in the distance, a jet plane passing far overhead at six hundred miles an hour. The emptiness felt absolute, with just the fading echo of the bell to ground her in reality.

The crisp air was clear, marred only by the white mist of her exhalations. Her boots squeaked on the hard packed snow, and as she walked she looked up at the sky. The stars seemed to shine brighter than ever, too frigid to even twinkle.

The buildings were dark, the snow was light and the few streetlights cast long shadows in every direction. A mailbox stood on the corner, its blue paint so vivid it seemed to glow among all the monochrome. When Elena reached it, she paused for a moment to pull the letter from her pocket and slip it inside.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with ice. Then as quickly as she could she crunched along the frozen sidewalk, anxious to reach the warmth of home.

* * *

Friday morning's alarm was always unwelcome. On Thursday nights Elena had to close up her father's coffee shop late, and the resulting lack of sleep tended to make her grouchy.

The crash of the alarm clock hitting the floor as her flailing hand knocked it off the nightstand only jolted her further from dreamland. With a groan she pushed back the covers, reluctantly emerging from her cozy cocoon. Half-awake, she trudged to the bathroom, pounding on her brother's bedroom door to rouse him along the way. An annoyed groan from within was her only response.

Her father had already left over an hour ago to open the shop for the before-work crowd in need of their morning fix. Every morning but Sunday it was just Elena and Jeremy, fighting over the bathroom, scrambling to scrounge up breakfast and make it down to the corner without missing the school bus.

This morning, wonder of wonders, they both sat at the kitchen table at the same time, Elena with toast and peanut butter in one hand and a mug of green tea in the other, Jeremy pouring himself an enormous bowl of half Raisin Bran, half Fruit Loops. He claimed it gave him the protein and energy he needed to get going - he was on the basketball team. Elena just rolled her eyes and silently worried he'd become diabetic if he didn't watch it.

An e-mail from her editor reminded her of the last letter she'd included in her column the night before.

"Hey Jer?"

With barely a glance her way he shoved a heaping spoonful into his mouth. "Mmm?"

"You seeing anyone these days?"

His eyes widened, and he flushed as he swallowed. "Um, no. Not right now. Why?"

Elena shrugged. "Just curious. It's been a few months since you split with Anna. I wondered if you and Vickie might be…"

"No! I mean, we're friends, and she's hot and all…but she's seeing Tyler Lockwood."

She screwed up her face at the mention of Tyler's name. "Ugh."

"Yeah."

Now Elena was more suspicious than ever that the e-mail might have come from Vickie Donovan. Tyler was the captain of both the football and basketball teams and, in her opinion, a complete alpha male douche. His ego was nearly as big as his father's. Richard Lockwood was the mayor of Mystic Falls. The Lockwoods had been one of the original families to settle in this area. So had the Gilberts actually, but that might be the only thing the two families had in common. Grayson Gilbert was content to live a quiet life, and though his shop was moderately successful, Elena knew some months they barely scraped by. The Lockwoods had money and power – lots of it. They lived in the largest of the riverfront mansions along Route Four, with multiple acres of both beautifully landscaped and heavily wooded property behind. They were famous for hosting lavish parties; their Fourth of July bash was an event not to be missed by anyone in town. And Founding Families were a mandatory presence at such events, which meant Elena had to endure every last one of them.

She sighed and glanced at the clock on the stove. _Crap_! "The bus is gonna be here any minute!" she exclaimed, dumping the remains of her tea into the sink.

As always, Jeremy headed straight for the back of the bus where the other members of his posse awaited him. Elena sat down beside Bonnie near the middle. She noted her brother dropped into a seat with Vickie. Tyler, of course, drove himself to school in his brand-spanking-new red SUV. If he _was_ dating Vickie, he hadn't bothered to give her a lift today.

Elena chatted with Bonnie until they pulled up out front of the gray stone and red brick castle that was Mystic Falls High. It was on the opposite side of Route Four, and the upper floor windows and turrets had a majestic view of the park and river bend across the way.

The high school had been built in 1915, at the height of the architectural castle craze that had swept across America. Now its hulking edifice seemed a little out of place; an embarrassment to be ridiculed by the students, a point of pride to the mayor and town council, and a roadside attraction to outsiders.

Elena thought it was beautiful. She had loved this building ever since she was small – years before she'd even stepped foot inside its hallowed halls. Even when she was having a truly shitty day, she only needed to trot up the stairs to the highest tower, look out the window at the view, and she would instantly feel a bit better – like something clicked inside and she understood her place in the world, just for a moment, and she felt like she was where she belonged.

* * *

It had been a busy evening, but the Clutch was finally starting to empty out as people headed over to the Grill, or home, or wherever else they needed to be on a Saturday night. Elena had just delivered a cruller and refilled the mug of her history teacher, Mr. Tanner.

As she wiped the crumbs and dribbles from a recently deserted table, she glanced over at the boy sitting in the back corner. Well…he really wasn't a boy, was he? He was pale and slim, with dark hair mostly hidden under a black Greek fisherman's cap. He wore tinted glasses and, as usual, had his nose buried in a book. As usual because, although Elena had no idea who he was, she realized he'd been in her shop before. Several times. Always when she's been too busy with customers to really pay him much notice. She remembered he wore those glasses, that cap, and his black pea coat, and always ordered a cup of coffee, also black. He carried his own stainless steel travel mug, so had no need for one of the red Gilbert's Coffee Clutch cups.

"Excuse me, Elena?"

She started, jolted from her thoughts, and turned to the elderly woman who sat at a side table with her husband, as they did nearly every Saturday evening.

"Yes, Mrs. Clancy? Can I top you up?"

"No, thank you. I just wanted to tell you, you look lovely in that shade of blue."

Mr. Clancy nodded in agreement, before returning his attention to his wife and giving her a smile. They had told Elena a few weeks ago they'd been married for forty-eight years.

Getting to his feet, Mr. Clancy helped Mrs. Clancy up and held out her coat for her to ease her arms into. They had matching down jackets with big fur-trimmed hoods. Perfect for a chilly January night.

"Thank you. Be careful on the icy sidewalks," she advised as they said goodnight.

Soon Mr. Tanner, too, left his money on the counter and headed out into the cold. Fifteen minutes later no one remained but her and the dark, handsome stranger.

Elena sucked in a breath, straightened her spine and walked back to him.

"Warm you up?" she asked, pot of coffee extended expectantly.

He looked up at her and lowered his glasses, and Elena's breath caught in her throat. He had the most incredible pair of clear blue eyes she'd ever seen. In the harsh artificial light of the shop they appeared almost aqua really, with a thin dark rim around the outer edge of the irises. Long black lashes framed those mesmerizing eyes. And right now they were staring at her inquisitively.

'-in mind?"

Crap. She'd missed most of that, lollygagging at the pretty. Heat flooded her cheeks. "Pardon?"

"I said, 'depends what you have in mind,_'_" he replied with a smirk. She flushed deeper as she realized the double entendre of what she'd asked. _Warm you up._ Oh God.

"More c-coffee?" she stuttered. _Get a grip, Elena. You left yourself wide open for that one_.

"No thanks." He flashed her a smile. "I should probably head out. Aren't you about ready to close up?"

His smile was as striking as the rest of him, and the sight of it made Elena's embarrassment ease up a bit. She wondered how old he was. She was sure she'd have remembered if she'd seen him at the high school. No, he was definitely not a teenager. But not by a lot. "We're open 'til midnight Thursday to Saturday," she told him. "I have to stay, even if there's no one else here."

"That sucks. Don't you get bored?"

She shook her head. "Nah. I usually do homework or read or something. I never have any problem passing the time."

He looked her up and down and her temperature shot up again. "You're in high school…" He paused to check out her name tag. "Elena?"

"For a few more months," she admitted.

One black brow arched thoughtfully. "Huh. I pegged you for older."

"I'm eighteen. Why? How old are you?"

His eyes narrowed for a split second, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to answer. Then that easy grin returned. "Twenty-two. Just moved to town a few weeks ago."

"Welcome to Mystic Falls. What brings you to our quaint little burg?" She sat down opposite him. Why not? There were no other customers around to serve.

He sighed, so softly she almost didn't hear it. "That's a long story I'd rather not relive right now. My uncle owns a former boarding house way down Route Four just outside of town. I'm staying with him at the moment."

Elena's eyes lit up. "Oh! Your uncle is Zach Salvatore! I know him – he comes in here sometimes."

"Yep." His gaze shifted down to the book resting on the Formica.

"What're you reading?" She reached to flip it so she could see the cover. "_The Great Gatsby_? I'm reading that for English right now! Well, I actually got so into it I couldn't put it down and finished it in two days, but I'm re-reading at the pace we're supposed to be at. Have you read it before?"

He pressed his lips together a bit self-consciously. "Eleven times," he confessed, one corner of his mouth twitching up in a small half-smile.

Elena's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Wow. Maybe I should get you to help me with the five-thousand word essay I have to write on it then," she said with a teasing grin.

"Maybe," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on the hard plastic chair. Tucking the book away inside his jacket, he stood up abruptly. "I've gotta get going. Thanks for the coffee and conversation."

She wondered if she'd said something wrong. They'd seemed to be getting along fine, but now he looked like he wanted to be any place but here. Scrambling to her feet as well, she amended, "You don't actually have to help me. I was just kidding."

Their eyes met as he adjusted his cap, for a moment revealing more of that thick messy hair. A waft of cologne hit her as they stood in such close proximity, and hot desire clenched low in her belly.

"I don't mind if you wanna talk over your essay. As you might've guessed, it's one of my favorite novels. Maybe I'll see you in here next week. Have a good rest of your night, Elena."

She didn't reply at first, frozen in thought as she watched him walk away.

Just as he reached the door she cried, "Wait!" He glanced back. "I don't even know your name." Her voice came out sounding much younger than her eighteen years.

With a tight smile, he replied, "It's Damon."

Then he slipped out into the night.

* * *

_**A/N** Yes, I'm back with something new. No, it's not the sequel to TSM. Not yet, but that will come later. I just needed a bit of a break from those characters, but I will write them again. What do you think of this beginning? Do you guys want to read more? Please let me know your thoughts by leaving me a review in the little box below. You don't have to have a FF account to leave a review - anyone can do it. :) Thank you so much!_

_Special thanks to LoveDE for betaing and to Anglcdmn1986 and scarlett2112 for pre-reading and giving me advice. Love you guys._

_If you want to, you can follow me on tumblr or twitter under: elvishgrrl_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

When Zach handed him the letter as he sat reading in the drawing room on Tuesday afternoon, Damon was surprised, to say the least. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten an actual letter from someone. It might have been back in high school when that crazy Amber chick had a mad crush on him. He vaguely recalled her sometimes mailing him stuff in pointless and increasingly desperate attempts to get noticed.

This envelope was not decorated with hearts and kisses like those ones had been. It was plain white and business-y looking. The handwriting on the front, however, was looped and swirled - definitely written by a woman. It was addressed to _JAI_, at Zach's P.O. Box.

"How d'ya know it's for me?" he wondered as his uncle poked at the dying embers in the fireplace. The boarding house was huge, rambling and, like pretty much every other building around here, old. It was next to impossible to keep warm, so at this time of year it was necessary to keep a fire burning in the fireplace of any room you intended to spend any length of time in.

"Sure not meant for me," Zach stated flatly, straightening up and hanging the iron poker on its hook. He turned back to Damon. "You talk to your dad yet?"

Stiffening, Damon muttered, "Nope."

"Stefan?"

"Nope."

Zach sighed. "Well at least they know you're here and didn't run off and do something stupid. Any idea how long you might stay for?"

Their eyes met. Damon's blue irises were stony. "Does it matter? Just tell me when you're sick of me and I'll split."

Another sigh. "You're my brother's kid. I'm not going to kick you to the curb, Damon. You're welcome here as long as you want."

Damon shrugged. "Don't know yet. But you'll be the first to know when I'm moving on."

His uncle snorted. "Thanks for that much, I guess. I'm heading to the Grill to pick up hot wings for dinner. You want?"

"Sounds good," Damon replied absently, his attention turned back to the letter in his hand. He heard Zach's footsteps cross the hardwood as he left, but didn't look back up.

Tearing open the envelope, he roughly pulled out the letter within, earning himself a paper cut for his efforts. Two smudges of blood now stained the white paper above the words, '_Dear JAI'_.

Reading it over quickly, random phrases popped out at him:

'_You're absolutely right."_

'_reality doesn't always work that way'_

'_burrows deep inside you and holds on tight.'_

'_time away from the two of them is precisely what you need'_

'_consider maybe starting to date again'_

With a groan he stood up, meaning to toss the letter into the fireplace. Dating? Yeah, right. Like he wanted to throw himself into _that_ volcano again. Relationships just weren't for him. Dating wasn't gonna happen. Never again.

And it was all just pat advice, wasn't it? Nothing of any use to him. But then again, why did he even think it would be? It was pointless. His question was the most inane, the most unanswerable question in the world. _How do you stop loving someone?_ Ridiculous. Like he'd told himself at least fifty times before he'd dropped it into the mailbox - he shouldn't even bother.

Damon crushed the page to a jagged white ball. The red bloodstain and the scrawled blue letters '_De_' glared up at him accusingly.

Instead of fueling the fire with it, he dropped back to the couch and pulled the letter open again, flattening it over the tabletop with his hand, the formerly smooth surface now rough below his palm. It brought to mind a phrase from a book he'd read long ago: _A heart is like a piece of paper__ -__ once it's __crumpled__ or torn it can never return to how it once was._

_So _the bitch had left permanent scars – so what? What did it fucking matter? She was happy back home with his brother, and he was sitting here miserable in Mystic Falls. How was that fair?

Then Damon's eyes fell on something else Miss Lonely Love had advised.

'_It might surprise you how new friends can distract from old problems.'_

An image of the cute brunette with the big brown eyes from the coffee shop suddenly popped into his head, and he smiled thinly to himself. Maybe later he'd brave the cold in search of a caffeine fix.

* * *

School buses always seem to smell of a pungent blend of diesel exhaust, old vinyl, and stale sweat. It's a universally accepted fact. Today's potpourri of unpleasantness also included a vague hint of weed wafting up from the rear, and the rancid, yet sickly sweet odor of a decaying apple rolling around beneath the seats. Elena tried to remember to breathe through her mouth.

During the ride home she couldn't resist sliding what she hoped were surreptitious glances behind her at Vickie Donovan. Vickie sat in the very back seat with Jeremy again, whispering and giggling, their heads close together. Elena wondered what Tyler would think if he could see them right now. She assumed he would not be impressed - he was known to be possessive with his 'toys'.

Snow-shrouded houses slid past her window as she forced herself to look outside instead. Her mind was troubled. Elena had been the first one inside the girls change room before Gym this afternoon, third period History having been dismissed a few minutes early for once. As she'd come around a wall of lockers, she'd startled a half-dressed Vickie, the last straggler of the juniors who'd been filing out after the previous class.

Although the other girl was quick to pull up her jeans and throw on her hoodie, it hadn't been fast enough to prevent Elena from noticing the bruises on the inside of her upper arm. Small round ones - the kind that could have been made by squeezing fingers.

Elena had stopped in her tracks, too shocked to speak.

Avoiding meeting her eyes, Vickie had muttered, "Hey," before scrambling past her for the door.

Those marks had been weighing on Elena ever since. Could Vickie really be the girl who wrote that letter to Miss Lonely Love last week? Could Tyler be getting too rough with her behind closed doors? Elena didn't know for sure, but her gut kept insisting something wasn't right.

She stared outside, but she wasn't even aware the bus was nearing her stop. She kept seeing that ugly purplish-yellow row of spots on Vickie's arm. And the larger patches she'd glimpsed on her inner thighs.

* * *

The late afternoon sunlight was starting to fade as Elena sat on her bed with Bonnie, discussing the differences between Gatsby and Nick. Bonnie thought Gatsby was romantic and mysterious, while Nick was too much of a boring buzz-kill. Elena argued that Gatsby was so fixated on his idealized image of 'the one who got away' that it doomed him to repeat the mistakes of his past.

Once they put their English homework aside, Elena leaned back against her pillows. "Hey, so did you read my column this weekend?"

"I always do. Why?"

"Remember the letter from the girl about her asshole boyfriend?"

Wrinkling her forehead, Bonnie replied, "Um, I think so. He was a controlling dick, right?"

"Yep. So, this might sound strange but…I've been wondering whether it could be from Vickie Donovan."

Bonnie scrunched her face in thought. "She's seeing Tyler these days, isn't she?"

Elena nodded.

"Hmm. Could be. I heard he treated Amber pretty shitty last year. I could see it."

Though there was no one else in the house to overhear, Elena dropped her voice to a whisper. "I ran into Vickie in the change room before gym today, and she had bruises on her arm. It might be nothing, but…"

"But it might be something," Bonnie said, narrowing her eyes with concern.

Elena didn't mention the other bruises she'd seen, the darker, uglier ones lower down. For all she knew, maybe Vickie liked things a little rough in bed. And if so, that was no one's business but her and her partner. She just sighed, "Yeah."

Bonnie began to gather up her books and binders, stuffing them one by one into her knapsack. It was getting dark and her grandmother would be expecting her home for dinner soon. Then she stopped and looked back at Elena. "What about telling Jeremy what you saw? He's friends with her – he might know how she hurt her arm."

Bonnie had a good point. But Elena was beginning to wonder if her brother was harboring a bit of a crush on Vickie. If he found out she'd been hurt, he might confront Tyler about it - which would more than likely end up getting ugly. Elena didn't really want to escalate things unless she found more evidence to support her fears.

"That's true. But I don't think I'll mention the bruises. I'll just ask if she said anything about injuring herself. It's possible it could be no big deal. If I tell Jer my suspicions, and he says something to Vickie or Tyler, and it turns out I'm wrong…well that would just be unpleasant for all of us."

"But if Tyler's hurting her, he needs to be stopped, 'Lena."

"I know. And I totally agree. But I think we need more information before we go jumping to any conclusions. First, let me try to find out what Jer knows."

"Okay. I really hope it's nothing."

"So do I."

* * *

Tuesday nights were never very busy at the shop, and this cold, blustery Tuesday night was even deader than usual. Elena had finished all her cleaning a while ago, and now sat behind the counter sipping hot chocolate and reading tonight's assigned chapter of F. Scott Fitzgerald's most famous story.

The jingling of the bell over the door jarred her away from the lavish room at the Plaza where Gatsby and Tom were embroiled in their tense confrontation. She glanced up in annoyance, hoping whoever it was just wanted a coffee to go.

Elena's eyes flared, a smile chasing away her irritation as she saw the familiar black cap and pea coat come inside. Damon. She was surprised to see him back so soon; it had only been three nights since they'd talked. The thought that he was probably here specifically to see her this time sent nervous tingles through her body.

"Hi," she greeted him, slipping her bookmark between the pages and standing up as he approached the counter. Damon's face was glasses-free tonight and his blue eyes stood out like neon signs. Those eyes were dangerous as hell – they probably melted the panties off every woman he ever met.

_Pull yourself together, loser, _she mentally scolded. As professionally as possible, she asked, "Dark roast, black, right?"

He chuckled. "I'm impressed you remember."

Flushing, Elena turned to the row of coffee machines behind her, lifting the only remaining pot and peering inside dubiously. As she swirled it around the dark liquid oozed viscous fingers down the inside of the glass.

"I'll have to make a fresh pot. This stuff's sludge." Looking over her shoulder at him, she flashed a tight grin. "Hope you're not in a rush." What she really hoped was that he'd keep her company for a while. She closed up at ten, which was still another hour away.

"No problem. I'd rather it be fresh anyway."

She rinsed out the pot, then measured and poured pungent coffee grounds into the top of the machine, setting the switch to brew. When she turned around, she found Damon perched on a stool directly across from her, her novel in his hands. His cap now rested on the counter beside her mug of cooling chocolate, and he was combing his fingers through his hair to unflatten it. Elena had a strange urge to reach over and mess it up further. She wondered if that thick hair would feel as soft as it looked.

He opened the book to where she'd left off and scanned the page. "Ah," he observed with a quirk of his lips. "Things are starting to heat up."

She had to agree. "That scene is so tense!"

Damon chuckled, tucking her bookmark back inside. "So when's your essay due?"

"Um, a week from Friday. We have to finish the last two chapters this week, then pick a theme and write an essay about it." She raised her mug to her lips. Lukewarm chocolate was still miles better than no chocolate at all.

When she set it back down, he reached for it and took a sniff. "No wonder the coffee was old. Even you're not drinking it!"

Self-consciously brushing a strand of hair off her face, she admitted, "Actually…funny story, but…I don't drink coffee."

Damon's eyes widened and a massive grin surfaced. "You work in a coffee shop and you don't drink coffee?" He began to laugh.

"I work in _my dad's_ coffee shop and I don't drink coffee," she clarified, chuckling along with him.

"That explains why you're here all the time. You have no choice."

Elena's laughter stuttered to a halt. _You have no choice_. It was true. Sort of. But he didn't know the whole of it, and she didn't intend to tell him. She wanted to be here. She wanted to pitch in any way she could. "My brother helps out sometimes. And if we're really stuck, my friend Bonnie will fill in. But Dad mostly tries to keep things in the family. It's simpler." She deliberately left out the fact that she didn't get paid for these shifts, that she just did whatever she could to help make ends meet since her mom had passed away. The Gilbert's financial struggles were nobody's business but their own.

"Family business. I get that. My dad runs a law firm in Richmond. I was expected to go to law school." Damon rolled his eyes. "My brother's at U. of V., following in the old man's footsteps. And I'm…well…here. Letting dear old Pops down, as usual."

A _ping_ behind her startled Elena before she could respond, letting her know the fresh pot of coffee was ready. She bent down to retrieve a clean mug from a lower shelf.

"No need," Damon reminded her. "You can just pour it in here. One less dish to wash that way." He put his silver travel mug on the counter beside his cap and twisted off the lid.

Her cheeks got hot again. Right. His travel mug. "Sorry, I forgot," she mumbled, picking up the bubbling carafe to fill it. Now, what had they been talking about? Oh right.

"So you don't want to be a lawyer. So what? Most lawyers are egotistical, manipulative asses." That earned her a tight smile. Encouraged, she continued. "Did you go to college?"

"Not yet." Damon blew on the surface of the steaming liquid before taking a tentative sip. "I want to go to teacher's college at some point. Once I figure some shit out and get my life back on track, that is."

Elena took another swig of her chocolate. It was cold now. She upended the mug to swallow the last of it.

"Your dad doesn't approve of you taking some time out in Mystic Falls, I gather?"

He shrugged. "No clue. I haven't spoken to him since I left. Doubt it."

"What about your mom? Does she support you?"

Damon went still, his gaze now fixated on a spot on the countertop. For a moment or two she thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he replied softly, "She would, if she was around. She died when I was twelve."

A flood of empathy came over Elena. She remembered far too well her own mother's final months, days, moments. Sometimes she wished she could forget. Her reply was barely more than a whisper. "So did mine. Two years ago."

Those intense blue eyes lifted to hers. They were full of understanding. "I'm sorry."

She waved his words away, as usual trying to pretend like it was no big deal, trying to brush it off like she always did to those who offered sympathy. But she stopped herself. Maybe this time she didn't need to pretend. Damon _knew_, after all.

"Cancer," she stated with a small sigh.

"Ah. That sucks."

He didn't offer his own mother's cause of death and she didn't ask. She just said, "Back atcha."

They sat in silence for a bit. It wasn't an awkward silence though; it was companionable. Easy, even. Elena had never talked about her mom's death with anyone who had lost their own mother. She found herself feeling suddenly closer to Damon - which was crazy, because she didn't even know him. But she realized she wanted to.

They ended up discussing favorite books for the last thirty minutes of her shift. No further mention was made of disappointed fathers or dead mothers. He waited until she wiped down the coffee machine and dimmed the lights, then followed her to the door.

The snow was coming down harder than ever, fat flakes driven in sheets by each gust of wind coming down off the mountains to the northwest. Elena shivered as she locked up, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck.

"Well, goodnight then," she said, looking up at Damon. Snowflakes were melting on his already reddened cheeks, and he tugged the brim of his cap lower.

"How're you getting home?" he wondered.

She glanced down the blustery street in the direction she was headed. "Um…I walk. It's not that far."

His eyes widened as he took another look around them. The light coming off the nearest streetlight was no more than an otherworldly halo through the blowing snow. "It's not a fit night for man nor beast. Let me give you a lift."

She hesitated, and she knew he saw her reluctance.

"C'mon. I promise you I'm not a serial killer. Would you seriously rather walk home in this than get into a vehicle with me?" Damon added a wink and a smile, clearly determined to disarm any fears she might be harboring.

Elena couldn't help but laugh. "Wouldn't a serial killer say exactly that to charm me into his car?"

"Probably. But I don't drive a car; I drive a Jeep. Which is parked over there buried under what looks like half a foot of snow." He gestured toward a white-shrouded SUV across the way. "How handy are you with a snow brush?"

She snorted. "I've spent eighteen winters in Mystic Falls. I think I can handle it."

"Great," he grinned. "Let's go."

He pushed the snow off the driver's door with gloved hands before unlocking it. Reaching behind the seat, he retrieved two long brushes with bright red bristles. Each had matching plastic scrapers at the opposite end.

"I just happen to have two in here. Catch!" Damon tossed a snow brush her way.

She reached up in surprise but was too slow; it flew over her shoulder and landed in the slushy street behind her. Embarrassed, she scrambled to retrieve it.

"Nice reflexes," he teased, leaning inside to start the engine. "Why don't you climb on in and I'll take care of the de-entombing?"

Elena went around to the passenger side and pulled open the door. But instead of getting inside, she just tossed her knapsack onto the seat. She wasn't some wimpy girly-girl, and she certainly didn't want Damon to think she required coddling.

With the first sweep of her brush along the roof she accidentally flicked snow into his face. Before she could apologize, she heard him laugh from the other side of the Jeep.

"Two can play that game," he warned before a volley of cold and wet flew her way. Elena had just time to duck. Most of it landed on her blue knit hat, although a few icy sprinkles caught her left temple.

The resulting chaos, thereafter referred to as the First Great Snow War of 2014, ended with a mostly cleaned off Jeep and two damp, snow-covered and laughing occupants. Damon was the one to finally call a cease-fire, and, as Elena was quick to point out, it looked like he had taken the brunt of it. His coat and hat were made of thick wool, and snow stuck to nearly every inch of both.

"Just admit I win then," she challenged, lifting her snow brush high in triumph.

He shook his head, bits of snow flying from his hair, and chuckled softly. "Fine! You win. Just get inside. It's plenty warm now. Let me throw something down so my seats don't get soaked." He pulled a tartan blanket off the backseat and spread it across the two front ones.

Once they were both inside, Damon turned to her, one brow raised questioningly. "So?"

Her brows drew together. "So…what?"

He shook his head, smirking at her. "Did you get hit too hard in the head with a snowball? Where do you _live_, Elena?"

Luckily she was sure her cheeks were already glowing from the exertion of battle. "Oh, right. Maple Street. Just turn right at the corner there onto Juniper, then go down two blocks and take a left and that's Maple. It's really not far. I walk home every night."

Though the streets weren't yet plowed, the Jeep had four-wheel drive and made it to her place with little problem. The Gilbert home was a small white bungalow, its outline barely visible through all the camouflaging snow. Jeremy's bedroom window glowed, and the welcome light over the front door awaited her return.

"Thanks for the lift, Damon," she said, picking her knapsack off the floor.

He offered a tight half-grin. "Don't mention it."

"Well, see you." She put her hand on the door handle, meaning to head inside.

"We didn't talk about your essay subject," he said suddenly.

Elena looked back at him. "Oh right. It's okay. You don't have to-"

"I'll drop in to visit again in a few nights, and if you're not too busy we can discuss it then." Damon's voice was firm.

"Um, okay. Sounds good. Drive safe."

As she opened the door and stepped out into the calf-deep snow, she looked back at him and he was still watching her. That quivering sensation in her chest started up again.

"Goodnight, Elena," he said softly.

"Goodnight."

* * *

When Damon got back to the boarding house, he felt antsy. Instead of heading upstairs to his room to read, he went down the hallway to the small gym in the back and jumped on the treadmill for twenty minutes. It took him a while to figure out where all this energy had come from. Then it hit him that he was happy. Happy. He snorted, shaking his head in amazement. How fucking long had it been since he'd felt happy? So long the emotion seemed nearly foreign. Apparently a chat about dead mothers and a snow fight with a cute girl had done the trick, though. Who would have thought? Oh, wait. Miss Lonely Love, that's who. He hadn't laughed so much since…well, since Katherine, back when things had still been good.

After a long hot shower, he stretched across his bed with the letter he'd received earlier, once again smoothing the crinkles flat beneath his palm. In the corner the fire crackled and spit behind the grate, sounds that made him feel warmer just in hearing them. He'd enjoyed spending time with Elena, and he thought about how chipper and full of energy he'd been when he'd come in, at least before memories of Katherine had elbowed their way back to the forefront.

Hanging out with Elena, goofing around with her - he'd felt so much lighter, even if it had only lasted a couple of hours. It seemed the love advice sage was right about the benefits of making a new friend. Elena was a great distraction. And it didn't hurt that when she smiled at him he felt compelled to smile back.

On impulse Damon reached to the nightstand and grabbed his silver Cross pen– a gift from his father when he'd graduated high school, no doubt intended to flourish his signature on countless wealth-producing official documents – and his journal, pressing it open to a fresh page. Pushing his glasses higher on his nose, he began to write.

_Dear Miss LL,_

_First off, thank you for taking the time to reply. Much appreciated._

_Secondly, although I was initially skeptical of your advice to get out and meet new people, tonight I decided to give it a shot. And lo and behold, you were actually right. I met a girl. We talked, we laughed…I had fun. And I haven't had 'fun' in a very long time._

_As for your suggestion that I consider dating again, well, that's where I'm going to have to draw the line. No more relationships. No more emotional attachments. To anyone. My ex was the last, for me. I refuse to put myself through that any more. It's not just worth it._

_I'm not writing this to ask for any more advice. I have no more questions for you. I just wanted to say thanks._

_JAI_

Damon re-read what he'd written, hoped she could decipher his even messier than usual scrawl, and then tore out the page. He'd mail it in the morning. A wave of exhaustion had come over him, although it was barely even midnight and he was normally a night owl.

Contrary to most nights these days, he fell into an easy sleep. His dreams were haunted by beautiful women with long chestnut hair and big brown eyes, one the she-devil who'd ripped out his heart, the other a smiling angel with snow dusting her lashes.

* * *

_**A/N** Massive thank you to all of you who have reviewed and favourited this story already. I really appreciate it! Extra thanks to LoveDE for proofreading and Scarlett2112 for pre-reading and giving advice. Pretty please leave me a review? Every one means a lot to me! Happy Sunday! xo_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

_Ten Years Ago -  
_

"Damon!"

He pauses with his fingers on the door handle, twisting his head to look up at her. She looks tired, but her shoulders are straight and she holds herself tall.

"Don't forget to swing by the pharmacy on your way home." Her voice is low and rough. She stifles a cough against her shirtsleeve.

He nods. "I will, Mom."

A groan is heard from upstairs. "Mommy! I need yoooooouuu…"

"Just a minute, baby. I'll be right up," she calls. Her shiny black hair glows in a beam of sunlight through the window. As she turns back to her older son her narrow form is backlit, giving her an otherworldly halo. "I can't go myself 'cause your brother's sick, and your father will be in court all day." She puts a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes, blue as a cloudless summer day, smile warmly down at him. Even in her current frail state, she is beautiful, he thinks.

"I need you to be a good boy and pick up my inhaler for me."

"I promise," he assures her, pushing his glasses up on his nose and giving her a bright grin.

She drops a kiss to his cheek and presses him out the door into the bright May morning. Her lips are rough and dry, like sandpaper on his skin.

He has no idea it is the last time he will feel her touch.

Damon runs most of the way to school, nearly the entire eight blocks. He runs partly because he knows he was a few minutes late leaving his house, but mostly because he is hoping to make it inside the school doors before he is spotted by _them_.

The big boys. The Three Stooges, as he calls them in his head (he and his mom used to sometimes watch old movies in the afternoons when a young Stefan was napping.) Their real names are Mike, Scotty and Connor. They are in the eighth grade, two years older and several sizes bigger than Damon, who is scrawny for his twelve years. He's not sure why he's their current target. Maybe it's because his clothes are nicer than theirs. Maybe it's because he wears glasses and spends more time in the library than on the baseball diamond. Who knows? Bullies prey on the weak. And they've decided he's weak, and therefore deserving of their abuse.

It started about a month ago. Mike Rainier had been leaning against the brick wall when Damon came out a side door of the school - the door closest to the library. He'd stayed a bit late to help the librarian catalogue and shelve all the new paperbacks that had just come in. It also didn't hurt that Miss French had pale blonde hair, a cheerful smile, and smelled like strawberries. Whenever she needed a hand he was always quick to volunteer.

As he'd stepped outside, something had hit him hard in the shin and he'd fallen face-first onto the asphalt, scraping up his chin in the process. At the sound of laughter he'd looked up into Mike's beady brown eyes. The larger boy's mouth chuckled, but the rest of his face scowled.

"Doofus," Mike had sneered, glaring down at him, silently challenging him to try and retaliate.

Damon's chin had hurt like crazy, and when he'd swiped at it, a smear of red came away on his dirt-encrusted fingers. His throat knotted up dreadfully at the sight of the blood, and baby tears rose in his eyes. Scrambling to his feet, he tried to hold them in, knowing they would only make things a hundred times worse.

When he'd tripped, his knapsack had flown nearly ten feet across the pavement. Mike walked over to it and gave it a kick, sending it skittering off to rest against the fence. Without looking back, he'd stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered away. Damon had slowly gotten to his feet and collected his bag. He'd pressed a tissue to his bloody chin and stumbled home, shameful teardrops burning his cheeks.

Then Mike and his friends started to follow him home some nights. If Damon wasn't fast enough or smart enough and they caught him, the results were always humiliating. And painful. He'd come home with bruised ribs, aching shoulder blades, sometimes torn out knees in his jeans. If they caught even a glimmer of a tear, the abuse would ratchet up about five notches.

"Boo hoo hoo. The baby's gonna cry," Connor would tease.

Next Scotty would chime in. "Hey Four Eyes, you gonna blubber? Maybe my fist in your face would shut you up."

"Don't wet your pants, Sissy Boy. Your momma might get mad."

Then they'd start to kick and punch and shove.

They are smart enough to not leave visible marks though, save for the scab on his chin after the first time Mike tripped him. And they know Damon has never squealed. He's fully aware of what happens to kids who tattle. Terrible things. Much worse things than he's had to endure so far. He's heard the stories, and he's young, so he believes them.

Damon swears to himself that if he just makes it through the remaining weeks of sixth grade alive, he's going to sign up for karate lessons this summer. Maybe ju-jitsu, too. Anything to help defend himself come fall. Sure, those three thugs will have hopefully graduated to high school by then, but who knows which other bullies might take their place? Stefan might even want to take a martial arts class with him. Though he's three years younger, it could be a fun thing for the two of them to do together, and some day his baby brother might find himself in a similar situation. Damon shudders at the thought – Stefan is even scrawnier than he is, and his lungs suck for running. He makes a mental note to ask Mom about it when he gets home.

At lunch he gobbles his sandwich down, then heads straight for the library to pass the rest of the recess. The Stooges never set foot inside the library unless they have to, so he considers it his safe place.

Miss French is up on the sliding ladder putting away books on one of the higher shelves. She's wearing a blue and white dress that stops just above her knees. Seeing the long muscles on the backs of her calves stretching on that ladder makes Damon feel tingles and twitches in certain places. Since she hasn't noticed him yet, he hurries to the other side of the library, grabs a book at random and drops into a chair, pulling himself right up to the table so the evidence of his discomfort is hidden. His cheeks are hot, his palms damp, as he looks down at the book he's taken. It's _The Giving Tree_. He sighs. _Great_, he thinks. Real appropriate for a twelve year-old boy who's read over half the books in this library. He reads it anyway.

When the final buzzer goes at three, Damon lingers packing his knapsack. At last he shoulders it and steps outside, glancing around carefully for any signs of trouble. The coast seems clear. He breathes a tentative sigh of relief as he leaves the schoolyard.

After a block he makes a detour, turning left on Washington Street instead of continuing straight, heading for the drug store as his mother had requested. She has asthma, and this spring her allergies have been making her attacks more frequent. About a month ago she'd even been hospitalized for a couple days. Stefan inherited it from her, but his is nowhere near as severe – at least not at this point in his young life. Mostly he just uses his inhaler when he has an allergy attack, or he runs around too much and his lungs rebel.

Damon isn't hurrying. Now that he's away from school and off his usual route he walks at a leisurely pace. His thoughts drift to Miss French's flexing calves as she reaches to place a book on the shelf above her. In his mind he sees the lower edge of her dress flutter against the smooth skin above the backs of her knees. Suddenly his jeans feel too tight again, but this time he doesn't mind all that much. It's happened before, and he isn't embarrassed by it if he's alone.

He's too caught up in daydreaming about the school librarian's fascinating legs to realize there are voices behind him until it's too late.

"Sissy Boy's not going home today."

A mocking laugh sends a shiver up Damon's spine. "Maybe he's headed to his boyfriend's house?"

This is followed by raucous hoots and hollers.

Damon looks over his shoulder and is frustrated but unsurprised to find the Stooges less than twenty feet behind him, and gaining. He shoves his other arm into the empty knapsack strap and breaks into a run, knowing if they catch him this time it will be bad. Not just bad - awful.

The boys may be big, but they can move fast when they want to. And right now they are definitely motivated. Damon hears the pounding of three pairs of feet on the pavement as they try to close the distance to him. He pushes himself harder, diving between vehicles when he reaches the intersection at Elm, dodging around a white van whose horn blast echoes through his skull as he narrowly avoids being crushed into the back end of the Volvo halted at the stop sign. Up over the curb he jumps, flying past the pharmacy with its blue neon sign, past the tantalizing smells wafting from the barbeque joint next door, past the hair salon and coffee shop. He spots a break in the cars moving parallel to him on Washington and shoots through it, feeling the rush of displaced air from a passing Hummer push him forward as he leaps onto the opposite sidewalk.

Sweat trickles down his spine as he slows, risking a glance behind him. Less than half a block back he spots Connor pointing his way, hears him shout something at the others, clearly looking for an opening to cross traffic.

Adrenaline surges through him and Damon resumes pelting down the pavement. There are more pedestrians on this side of the street. Old ladies with large handbags block his path as they examine the outdoor racks of clothing in front of The Dress Den. The hard corner of a purse jabs him in the right bicep as he passes.

Suddenly he spots the narrow laneway unobtrusively dividing that building and the laundromat next door. Without a single thought, he darts down it. It's a good thing Damon is so slim, because the way is not exactly clear going. Old half-broken crates are stacked along one side. Garbage cans, a couple abandoned mattresses and a smelly black dumpster sit further down against the other.

As he dodges to avoid stepping on an old board on the ground – the rusty nails poking up from it look sharp and probably tetanus-coated - one of his sneakers skids in a puddle of who knows what and he goes down on one knee, tearing a hole in both his new Tommy Hilfiger jeans and the skin below. The muck now coating his leg and shoes is rancid, but that's the least of his concerns. He looks frantically behind him again to check if the Stooges have caught up yet, if they saw his latest detour. With relief he sees only the open-topped rectangle of sunlight. Its glow barely penetrates the alley.

Damon drags himself to his feet and limps a few feet further into the gloom, going around the end of the dumpster and slumping to the ground on a discarded blanket. It smells of urine, and likely belongs to some homeless guy, but right now there's no one else in sight. He sits there, one knee (the cleaner one) pulled up to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around it, and gasps for breath as the sweat drips off his brow and into his eyes. He pushes up his glasses and swipes it away, but tears of pain and fear threaten to dampen them again.

His knee is bleeding. Not only does it smell like rotting garbage, but it hurts like hell. It's lucky he didn't land on the nails, but who knows what bacteria are swimming in that sludge. He hopes the scrape doesn't get infected; he's heard horror stories of what can happen to body parts if they get infected. Visions of hobbling to school on a crutch with a prosthetic lower leg pop into his mind. Would that be worse than what the Stooges will do to him if they catch him? Possibly. But possibly not.

In the distance he hears someone yelling, "I think he went this way!"

_Damn it_, he thinks with a sigh. Why must they be so persistent in their desire to beat the crap out of him today? _Just call it a day and scram already._ _God, I just want to go home_. He scrunches tighter against the concrete and prays they don't decide to explore this particular smelly passageway.

Then his stomach drops as he hears the low scuffle of someone entering the alley. With every ounce of strength he has, he pushes his entire body into the thin space between the crumbling bricks and the metal back of the dumpster. It's not much of a hiding spot – if they look around the dumpster closely they'll still spot him – but it's the best he can do.

Man, it reeks back here. Bile rises in his throat, but he fights it back down. He takes shallow breaths through his mouth.

"Any sign of him?" That sounds like Mike.

"Nope." Definitely Connor now. "I swear he disappeared before the Suds 'n Save though."

"I think you need specs, too," Mike snarks. "There's nothing down there but rats and roaches. He's too chickenshit to go that way."

"Maybe he's hidin'?" Scotty's higher pitched voice this time. Puberty hasn't deepened Scotty's tone yet, but it squawks through every now and then.

The rough brick digs into Damon's back, dirtying and probably leaving holes in his shirt, but he can't let himself care much right now. He hears shuffling step coming closer, and he stops breathing altogether.

"It's kinda dark, but I don't think he's in here. He probably saw a rat and took off."

A sharp laugh - Mike's for sure. Then silence.

Damon doesn't breathe; he doesn't move; he doesn't even blink. He begs his racing heart to quiet down. The silence stretches out and he understands they're right in front of the dumpster, looking and listening like the predators they are.

Just at the exact moment he has no choice but to open his mouth a fraction of an inch to draw in some putrid air, Mike speaks up again, masking the faint sound of his desperate inhalation. "Little faggot's not here. Let's go. This place smells like shit. Fucking baby probably ran straight out the other end and is halfway to his boyfriend's by now."

For the life of him, Damon can't understand why the Stooges equate slim, bespectacled and smart to gay, but for some reason they do. It puzzles him, but it doesn't offend him. Even at age twelve he's confident in his attraction to the fairer sex, so their insults don't hurt. Their fists, knees and feet on the other hand…

Once the sounds of the boys leaving the alleyway fade, Damon squeezes out from behind the dumpster and squats on the filthy blanket again. Frustrated, he knows he has to stay here a while longer, give them time to get on their way to wherever they've decided to head next. Possibly they're tracing the route back to his house, looking for him along some detour home he might have taken.

Sighing, he realizes that's probably exactly what they're doing. Mike is the smartest of the three, and the most determined to make Damon's life miserable. Mike will be leading them to his place. In fact, they'll probably lie in wait for him a block or two away. Especially now they're pissed off he's avoided them thus far.

His injured knee is throbbing, but he knows he has to wait – has to wait them out. Just how long exactly he has no idea. Checking the silver watch on his wrist his dad gave him for Christmas, he sees it's already after four.

Damon sits on that pissy, ripped up blanket, presses his face between his knees and closes his eyes. Inside, he's cursing the three bigger boys for their infernal need to terrorize the weak. He knows it's just the way it is, but the way it is sucks, frankly, for kids like him.

When the big hand finally gets close to the six, he thinks maybe, just maybe, it's been long enough. He edges his back up the wall until he's in a standing position and tentatively peeks out from behind the dumpster. The alleyway, and sunny sidewalk beyond, is empty.

A scurrying sound from _below_ the dumpster, however, says otherwise. He recalls Mike's taunt about rats, and suddenly finds he's able to move quickly after all. He heads for the opposite end of the laneway out to Cherry Street though, just in case.

By the time he turns onto his own street, Damon is tired, dirty, bloody, and wants nothing more than a long, hot shower. About a block away he stops in surprise when he sees an ambulance parked in front of his house. At first he doesn't notice his father's Cadillac along the curb behind it.

As he watches, the big double front doors swing open and paramedics carry out a shrouded stretcher, his father following closely. Then he sees something he's never seen before. And never wants to see again.

His dad's face streams with tears.

* * *

Damon blames himself of course. He's pretty sure his dad blames him, too. He was the one who was supposed to bring her the inhaler, after all. If only he'd made it to the pharmacy and back home when he'd been supposed to. If only the Stooges hadn't picked today of all days to be strolling down Washington Street and catch him daydreaming. If only Stefan hadn't been sick and Mom could have gone to pick up it herself earlier in the day. If only…well, he could list a million 'if onlys' but none of them will change a damn thing. He loved her, and now she's gone.

She collapsed just before 4:00, and somehow his little brother had managed to find the wherewithal to call 911. The paramedics got there in thirteen minutes, and his father arrived home in fourteen. But by then it was already too late. They tried unsuccessfully to revive her for another ten minutes, then called time of death at 4:24. Damon trudged in a daze up the walkway to his weeping father and brother eleven minutes after that, understanding what had happened without being told.

They bury her four days later. Standing there on the grass with his father and brother, all the rest of the mourners behind them, Damon feels like he's having an out-of-body experience, like he's nothing more than a spectre looking in, seeing, yet unseen. He inhales the dank smell of recently overturned earth mixed with the tang of sickeningly sweet flowers. It's a combination that will always remind him of death.

He wears a stiff black suit that makes his arms and legs itch every place it touches bare skin. Stefan clings to his hand like a lifeline and blubbers, snot coating his trembling upper lip. Handing him a tissue, Damon looks away – not at the rose-covered gleaming mahogany coffin in front of him, but up over the trees to the fluffy cumulus clouds scattered across the blue sky – blue as her eyes. _Just like the opening credits on 'The Simpsons'_, he thinks idly. A perfect spring day. All the rest of the world is probably outside enjoying this beautiful Saturday, oblivious to the man and two boys who have had their entire world ripped apart. It's hardly fair, really. It should be raining - thunderstorming, even. Bolts of lightning crashing down like the wrath of God, himself. How dare the sun shine while they put his mother in the ground?

Damon feels many things acutely right now: guilt and anger, isolation and sorrow. These emotions stab into him like needles. Yet his face is blank, unreadable, as if he feels nothing at all.

He does not cry.

* * *

_**A/N** I thought we needed a flashback to help understand Damon's character a bit better. Sorry it's so heavy, but it's important to show why he is the man he is today._

_Thank you to ALL of you who took the time to leave me reviews so far! Reviewers are the best readers an author could have. You have no idea how much each one means to me. Special thanks to LoveDE, kimbulay, Anglcdmn1986 and scarlett2112 for pre-reading and giving me advice. You guys are so loved!  
_

_Please let me know what you think of ch 3 by leaving a review in the little box below...it will only take a moment, and it will make me smile - isn't that worth it? haha Have a great day! _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

The next morning was bright and sunny. The plows had been out before the crack of dawn clearing away the foot or so of snow that had fallen during the night, and the school buses were all running more or less on schedule. Elena was pleased to find Jeremy already at the table when she came into the kitchen to make her tea and toast.

"Good morning," she greeted him as she opened the tap to fill the kettle.

He mumbled something unintelligible through a mouthful of cereal. It may or may not have been "Morning."

Popping two slices of toast into the toaster, she turned to face him, leaning back against the counter. A flash of red caught her eye as she noticed a card stuck to the front of the fridge. Curious, she reached over and tugged it out from under the eagle-shaped magnet. It was an invitation to the Lockwood's annual Valentine's Day bash a week from Saturday. Formal dress was required. Since the Gilberts were a founding family, so was their presence. She made a mental note to ask Bonnie if she could fill in at the Clutch that night.

Elena returned her attention to her brother. Rubbing her bicep through her sweater and fake-wincing a little, she said, "I bruised my arm up pretty good last night - stumbled and fell into the edge of the counter as I was cleaning."

Jeremy's eyes lifted to hers. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Just a klutz." The kettle whistled and she swiveled to unplug it and pour boiling water over her teabag. Once her toast was spread with honey, Elena sat down across from him. His cereal was nearly gone. Since he hadn't offered anything else after she'd told him about her injury, she decided to press on.

"So I ran into Vickie in the girl's change room yesterday. She seemed to be favoring the same arm I just hurt. Did she happen to say what she did to it?"

He looked at her again, clearly confused. "No. Why would she?"

"Oh you know…you guys seem close lately. I thought she might've mentioned it or something."

His eyes narrowed. "Why are you asking me this, Elena?"

With a shrug, she replied, "I just wondered." She took a sip of her tea and picked up her phone, trying to appear nonchalant. As she looked through her messages, she fleetingly wished she'd thought to ask for Damon's number so she could text him to make sure he got home safely last night. When she saw him next she'd have to remember to get his digits.

"You sure? You sure her arm was sore?" Her brother looked worried and it just further confirmed her suspicions of his growing feelings for Vickie.

While Elena might leave out some details, she wasn't going to lie to him. "Yes, I'm very sure."

"That asshole better not have…" Jeremy said it low, almost to himself. His eyes were fixed on the bottom of his now-empty bowl. Though most of the time she'd rather not know exactly what her brother was thinking, at the moment Elena wished she could read his mind.

"Jer?" His eyes lifted to hers again. "Do you think Tyler would do that? Get rough with a girl? Has it happened with others?"

Jeremy stood up abruptly and sighed. "Maybe." He shrugged. "I dunno. I've heard a few things. Can't see Vick putting up with that shit, though. She'd tell him to fuck right off if he ever tried."

"Okay," Elena said, letting the matter drop. She wasn't going to push this topic right now and risk riling him up further. He'd already given her something to go on. Tyler had left a slew of cast-offs in his three and a half years at Mystic Falls high, but the next person she thought might be worth talking to was his only serious relationship she was aware of - his ex-girlfriend Caroline.

A senior like Elena, Bonnie and Tyler, Caroline Forbes was blonde and bubbly. She was also very popular. Elena knew her well enough to say 'hey', but they didn't exactly move in the same social circles. The rich kids mostly hung out with other rich kids, which she and her friends most definitely were not. Caroline was also the head cheerleader for the second year in a row, which had made her a perfect match for the football team captain. Caroline and Tyler had dated for most of eleventh grade, but split up sometime over the past summer. Elena had no idea why; she'd never had reason to care one way or the other, so had never asked. Now she suspected it might be worthwhile to do some digging.

When Elena got onto the bus, she recounted her breakfast conversation with her brother to Bonnie in a rapid whisper, and asked her what she thought about finding out more about Caroline's former relationship with Tyler.

Bonnie agreed it couldn't hurt to ask around. She also decided to see what she could unearth about the rumors Tyler had gotten rough with Amber prior to dating Vickie. Although he was the school's Golden Boy, they figured if there was a nasty side to him someone would let something slip at some point.

Elena had English with Caroline second period, but they didn't sit near each other. When the lunch bell rang and the rest of the kids surged for the door, Elena lingered, falling into step beside the taller blonde girl near the back of the throng.

Caroline glanced at her curiously. "Hey Elena. How's things?"

"Things are…interesting."

Caroline gave her a perplexed look and Elena flushed. She decided to move things along. "Are you going to the Valentine's party at Tyler's next weekend?" she asked casually. Of course she already knew Caroline wouldn't miss it, but it was as good an opening as any.

That brought a smile and a slight eye roll. "Of course. I have to be there, same as you do."

Hoping to capitalize on the we're-both-stuck-doing-this-thing camaraderie, Elena's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Would you skip it if you could? Cause I sure would."

The other girl's grin faltered. "Spending my Saturday night at the Lockwood's having to see my ex all cozy with his new girlfriend isn't exactly my idea of a fabulous time. I'd rather be at the movies with Jessie. But I'll drag him along for an hour or two to put in my appearance, and then we'll split. It won't be so bad if I have my own arm candy." She paused, examining Elena closer. "You hate those things, don't you?"

The corner of Elena's mouth quirked up in half-smile. "Pretty much," she admitted. She glanced around to see if anyone was near enough to overhear them. At the moment no one was, so she tilted her head closer to Caroline's. "Look, I know we're not exactly BFFs, but can I ask you something?"

One perfectly shaped brow arched, but Caroline nodded.

"Was your break-up with Tyler…um…amicable? Or…?"

"Amicable? You mean like are we still friends?"

"I mean…was it…did it get…ugly? At the time?" Elena gulped and looked down at her books. "I'm sorry, Care. I know it's none of my business. I just heard some rumors…"

Caroline grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her into an empty corner by a row of lockers. "You heard rumors? About things getting ugly between Ty and me? Who told you that?" Her deep blue eyes flashed, but Elena couldn't read the emotion behind them.

Elena cheeks began to burn. "No. Well, yes, but not about you and Tyler. I heard he sometimes…has a temper. With other girls. Your name never came up, honest. But you were the only one I felt like I could ask."

Whoever coined the phrase 'flattery will get you nowhere' had obviously never met Caroline Forbes. At that last sentence, her smile resurfaced and she dropped her hand from Elena's arm. Then she shrugged. "I don't know about the other skanks who've been throwing themselves at him, but between us? Sure, he has a temper, but he never got handsy with me. I've got a temper too, and Ty knew better than to ever lay a finger on me…if I didn't want him to. Our fights were rare, but explosive - and always ended in amazing make-up sex. So I wasn't complaining." The expression on her face had morphed into one of fond remembrance and Elena grew more uncomfortable. She was just about to make an excuse and head off for lunch when Caroline asked, "Who was it? Who said he got rough with them? Was it that little bitch Amber?"

Elena tucked a strand of hair behind one ear and pulled her books against her chest. "I don't know. It was just some stupid rumor. Probably started by someone who was jealous of either Tyler or the girl he was with at the time."

Caroline's laugh burst out of her like a mini-eruption in the now quiet hallway, and she clapped hand over her mouth. "Probably," she agreed, before heading off in the direction of the stairwell.

When Elena opened her locker to retrieve her bagged lunch, she realized she'd never once said that anyone had implied Tyler had gotten rough with a girl, but Caroline had jumped to that interesting and possibly telling conclusion anyway.

* * *

It was another quiet night at the Coffee Clutch. On dark winter evenings the residents of Mystic Falls tended to hibernate in their own homes instead of being out and about - not that Elena could blame them. By 8:30 she was alone, with another hour and a half stretching out in front of her until she could close up. She reached into her knapsack and pulled out the small bundle of envelopes she'd picked up from her editor on her way to work earlier. Time to choose a few questions for her column.

There were only five letters, plus an additional six e-mails waiting in her Miss Lonely Love Gmail inbox – a slow week for sure. Elena read them over one by one. She had selected two e-mails and one letter for her column, and two more she felt deserved a private response when she came to the last envelope in the stack. The jagged handwriting on the front looked familiar, but no return address was scrawled in the upper left corner. Curious, she tore the end from the envelope and pulled out the contents.

Elena scanned the page, realizing with surprise that it was from the same guy who'd written to her before, the one whose girlfriend had cheated on him with his brother. While she did sometimes get replies to her personal responses over e-mail, most of them also thanking her like this one, it was pretty rare to get a handwritten letter back, especially from a man. As she read it, she smiled. Folding it carefully back into its envelope, she slid it inside her bag.

She spent the next hour replying to the questions and formatting her column, then reading over what she'd written, revising a few sentences here and there before forwarding it to her editor. When it was at last time to go home, she felt accomplished, although the sound of the wind gusting against the shop windows brought with it a sense of interminable loneliness. She'd been half wishing Damon might make an appearance tonight, and a part of her she wasn't sure she was all that pleased with was disappointed he hadn't.

Later, when Elena was in her flannel jammies and snug in bed, she began re-reading the final chapter of _The Great Gatsby. _ Before she got two pages in, the thought of JAI's second letter popped into her head and she put the book down mid-sentence. With a soft sigh, she got out of bed and began to rummage around in the bottom drawer of her dresser until she found the envelope. Then she retrieved the most recent letter from the bottom of her knapsack and, sitting cross-legged on the floor, read them both over.

Normally she didn't keep Miss Lonely Love queries for very long after she'd answered them – she had neither the space nor the inclination. But something about JAI's letters were different, although she couldn't say exactly why. She hadn't written back to the second, and had no real plans to, but she didn't want to toss them out either. Instead she tucked them both into the back of an old but well-loved hardcover on her bookshelf and returned to bed.

The persistent wind rattled the small window in her room and she pulled the blankets up tighter around herself. Much as she tried to immerse her mind in the tragic conclusion of _Gatsby_, she just couldn't concentrate. Though her father was in the next room, though her best friend was only a text or call away, Elena felt very alone.

* * *

Damon was day-drinking. He knew it wasn't the smartest idea in the world, but even the fire raging behind the grate in the library couldn't warm him up, and he had no inclination to leave the boarding house today. So he poured another two fingers of bourbon and listened to the wind gust under the eaves as the flames crackled in the corner.

On the table beside him his phone beeped again, and he glared at it, willing it with his mind to shut the fuck up. He didn't even pick it up to see who the text was from. He already knew.

Stefan. It was always Stefan. And the words were nearly always the same.

_I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday._

_I'm worried about you, Damon._

_Please answer your phone. I need to talk to you._

It was continually one variance or another of those three. Damon never acknowledged them, but he didn't block his brother's number either. Stefan was a persistent little bugger – he'd just use someone else's phone if he had to. Probably _hers_. And frankly, Damon couldn't be bothered to make the effort.

When the beeping finally stopped, he picked up his glass from where it sat beside the offensive phone and downed the liquid within, relishing the angry burn as it coated his throat. He slammed the tumbler back onto the oak with a sigh.

"Careful with the crystal, dude. That glass is older than you are."

He looked up as his uncle came into the room. Zach held a cordless phone in his right hand and Damon eyed it with suspicion. He hadn't even heard the usually loud boarding house phone ring.

Zach walked over and held it out to him wordlessly. With another sigh, Damon set his book down beside the now-empty glass and now-silent cell phone and, grimacing, took the receiver. He knew it was either his brother or his father on the other end, and since his cell had just beeped a minute ago, all his money was on Stefan.

He didn't put it to his ear, just clutched it tightly. The plastic casing was warm – to Damon unpleasantly so.

Zach arched a brow, staring at him intently. "You gonna talk to him?"

Damon's shoulders rose in the smallest of shrugs.

His uncle gave him a tight smile. "You can't avoid it forever. You're brothers; someday you'll have to talk again. Today might as well be that day."

Damon's frown was his only response. Zach gave him an encouraging nod before leaving the room.

He stared at that damn hunk of plastic and wires in his hand for a while longer. Then, mentally bracing himself, he put it against his ear. He was nowhere near drunk enough for this conversation.

"Yeah?" he muttered, taking off his glasses and setting them atop his book.

"Damon?"

"In the flesh."

"Thank God. I've been trying to reach you for weeks! How are you?"

"Alive." And far too sober at the moment.

"Good to know." He heard his brother blow out a puff of air. "Why wouldn't you at least text me back? Tell me you're okay? Tell me to fuck off? Anything, really. I was worried about you."

Damon didn't reply. Instead he leaned over and poured more bourbon into his glass.

There was a sigh from the other end of the phone. "Okay, okay. I guess I know the answer to that. Glad you finally decided to talk to me."

"Not sure I have." He rubbed his forehead with his fingers, briefly closing his eyes.

"Ah. Well, maybe you'll just listen then. I know I fucked up, and there aren't enough words to express how sorry I am about that. I never meant to hurt you."

Damon chuckled softly. "Right."

"It's true - just hear me out. It never should have happened the way it did, and I'll regret that bit for the rest of my life, but I don't…I can't regret being with her. I just…I fell in love, Damon. Even though she was with you, and I knew you were in love with her, and that she was off-limits, I fell for her. I felt incredibly guilty for acting on something I knew would cause you so much pain, but…"

"You fell in _love_ with her? Was that before or after you started fucking her behind my back?"

The wind gusted again, nearly drowning out another sigh from Stefan. "I deserve that."

Damon took a sip of bourbon. Rolling his eyes, he said, "_So_ not what you deserve."

"It was before. We fell in love before we ever touched each other. Once it started, we agreed she needed to end things with you before we could continue. She promised she would, but she knew that conversation was gonna be ugly and painful, so she avoided it. And we just couldn't stay away from each other. And everything just got so goddamn complicated, because we both love you and didn't want to hurt you, but knew it was inevitable."

His fingers tightened on the glass and Damon had to force himself to take a deep breath and relax them. Putting it to his lips, he swallowed the rest of the liquor in one gulp, savoring the burn all the way to the pit of his stomach. It was duller than before now that his blood-alcohol level had risen a bit. Nowhere near enough though.

"Are you done?" he asked tersely.

A third sigh. Damon could just picture his brother's brow all furrowed with frustration. Stefan was only nineteen, but he could brood like no one's business. As if he had any right or reason to.

"I'm done. I just needed to tell you again how sorry I am."

"Let me sum up for you, just to make sure I've got this straight. You called to tell me you're sorry, but not all _that_ sorry, because you and Katherine are in _looove_ and intend to ride off into the sunset and have fat babies some day?" Acid dripped from every word.

Stefan sighed yet again. This conversation obviously wasn't going the way he'd hoped. Perhaps he'd thought Damon would say, _'Oh, you're love with the love of my life? Oh, well that changes everything! In that case I forgive you for stabbing me in the back and wish you a lifetime of happiness together._' Not fucking likely.

"All right, Damon. No need to be an asshole. You're not ready for forgiving and forgetting yet - I get that."

"Do you, Stef? Cause I really don't think you do."

"I do love her, more than I've ever loved anyone. And we're happy together. And I hope someday you can find it in yourself to be happy for me, just because I'm your brother and, whether you're willing to admit it or not, I know you still care."

Damon chuckled, low and completely mirthless. "Uh huh. Thanks for calling."

"Damon…"

He hung up without waiting to hear any more, fury boiling through every vein and artery. Without a single thought, he whipped the phone across the room. Luckily his aim was true and it landed on one of the wingchairs near the tall windows instead of shattering on the hardwood. His uncle would've been pissed if he'd broken the phone in a fit of rage.

His gaze landed on the half-empty bottle of Maker's Mark on the table, the firelight sending dancing glimmers along the glass. It beckoned to him mercilessly. He reached for it, then stopped, his fingers frozen in mid-air for a few long moments. Finally he let his hand drop. In the mood he was in, he knew it wouldn't be the smartest idea in the world to get rip-roaring drunk. Zach wouldn't want his tumblers - or anything else in here, including his nephew – smashed to bits.

Damon left his cell phone and book on the table and instead went down to the gym. The red punching bag in the corner taunted him, and he pictured his brother's face on the side. As he began to pound it, Stefan's features morphed into Katherine's and he found his fists slamming into the leather even harder. He beat the crap out of it until his knuckles, wrists and shoulders were sore and sweat ran in rivulets down his face. When he could barely stand on his own two feet any longer, he dragged himself up to his room to shower, his mind now nearly as numb as his hands.

* * *

Elena moved quickly but gracefully as she navigated her way through the Friday night rush topping up mugs, placing plates of pastries in front of customers and ringing up their orders on the cash register. The hours slipped away unnoticed and before she knew it, it was after 10:30.

She had her back turned as old Mr. Donnelly left, so didn't notice someone else had entered at the same time until she heard footsteps approaching the counter. Whirling, she found herself face to face with a smirking Damon, his eyes twinkling mischievously behind his glasses, which were fogging over from the abrupt temperature change of coming indoors.

He took them off and began to polish them on his scarf tail as he greeted her. "How's your night been? Seems I picked the right time to pop by."

A thin layer of untended scruff covered his cheeks and chin, obscuring the boyishness from his features. As he looked her over, warm tingles radiated through her. Damon certainly wasn't like any other guy in Mystic Falls, that was for sure. Outwardly he looked like a male model, yet Elena could tell he carried some weary weight within.

She returned his smile. "Busy, but good. Glad the rush seems to be over. Coffee?"

Retrieving his mug from his coat pocket, he set it on the counter for her to fill, then doffed his coat and hat and folded them over a stool. She was pleased to note it looked like he intended to stay for a while.

"So how's your week been?" Elena sat down behind the counter, swiveling her body to face him.

His forehead creased with a momentary frown. "Shit, mostly. You?"

"Just busy with the usual – school and work and schoolwork." She didn't mention the Vickie thing. Damon didn't know any of the people involved, but it still felt too personal – not to mention as yet unsubstantiated - to share with outsiders. "Why was your week shit? If you don't mind me asking."

He sighed. "Got into a…heated…discussion with my brother last night. Let's just say he and I don't exactly see eye to eye."

Elena could tell by his expression that there was a lot more to it than just a random argument with a sibling. She and Jeremy got into spats all the time, but they rarely ruined her day, let alone several of them. "You said he's at U. of V. Which campus? Richmond?"

"We're from Richmond, but no. He's up in Charlottesville 'til the end of April. That's where the law school is, and where our father graduated."

"Right, okay. So you won't see him again until Spring Break next month?"

Damon shook his head with a sardonic half-smile. "Hopefully not even then. We're not close...not anymore."

"Oh. Is that why you left?" She wasn't sure she should pry, but the words just spilled out of her mouth anyway.

His eyes lifted, looking at her over the top of the dark plastic frame of his glasses, and her heartbeat sped up. At first Elena didn't think he would answer, instead just stare her down until she retracted the question.

"Partially," Damon said at last. He didn't offer anything more and, though he seemed a bit troubled, she decided not to push it. They were still just getting to know one another after all. And it wasn't like she'd blurted out all her deep family secrets to him already, either. But she did find herself hoping he might someday feel comfortable enough to speak of his past. It obviously contained some deep unpleasantness he was attempting to distance himself from.

So instead, she switched their topic of conversation to her English essay. Elena jotted down her outline as they discussed how Gatsby's obsession with his overly idealized mental image of the Daisy from his past made him blind to the Daisy of the moment, and who she truly was. Damon dropped a couple of sarcastic remarks about an ex-girlfriend here and there, but Elena didn't ask about her, either. If he felt like he wanted to share this stuff at some point, he would. Right now she knew it was none of her business.

He stayed until close, and once again offered to drive her home. This time she accepted without hesitation. The night was clear and frigid, and other than scraping a layer of frost from the windshield, no snow clearing was required, so there was no repeat of their snow battle. Damon still seemed tense; he didn't chat much on the short drive and Elena found herself missing his playfulness and those twinkles in the corners of his eyes that proved he was happy.

When they pulled up in front of her house, she turned to face him and he regarded her curiously. Flushing, she grabbed her phone from her bag and held it out.

He looked down at it. "Thanks, but I've already got one," he said dryly, maintaining a straight face.

Elena couldn't help giggling. "I know! Can you put your number into mine? That way I can text you to make sure you got home safely. I wanted to the other night during the snowstorm, but couldn't."

A smile broke through and it brightened Damon's entire countenance. Elena felt herself relax a little at the sight of it. His fingers brushed hers as he took her phone and wordlessly tapped the screen for a few moments before handing it back.

"Thanks. I'll text you when I get inside so you have mine, too."

He nodded, staring at her with an undecipherable expression.

Elena's gaze dropped to his lips. They were full, and looked soft. She wondered idly what kissing him would be like. Would he be gentle and sweet? Or intense and passionate? If she were a betting woman, she'd put her money on the latter, but truthfully she figured it could go either way. Maybe someday she'd find out…

No.

_Let's put a stop to that train of thought right now_, she chastised herself. Elena knew she needed to focus on her studies and her family duties for the next five months and then hopefully in August she'd be moving away for college. Getting involved with someone would just…add complications. Complications she didn't want.

"Goodnight, Damon," she told him, pushing open the door and stepping onto the hard-packed snow.

Before she closed it behind her, she heard him mumble, "Night" back, but it was soft and distracted, as if his mind was a million miles away. Considering his general demeanor this evening, she supposed it probably was. Because of the conversation with his brother? She had no idea.

Elena gave him a wave, and headed into the house.

* * *

_His sky blue eyes are all she can see; they fill up her entire field of vision. They're so beautiful, yet so dangerous. She knows she could drown in them if she isn't careful._

_She feels him place her phone into her hand, but she doesn't look down at it. She can't look down, even if she wanted to. Her eyes are locked – no, trapped – with his, like a cornered rabbit, frozen with fear, waiting for the fox to pounce._

_Only…that's not quite right, is it? She's not a rabbit; he's not a fox. But she's terrified he'll eat her alive anyway. Body, mind and soul. God, those eyes…_

_She finally breaks their connection and her gaze falls lower, to his lips. They're so…so plump! And rosy. She wants to nibble them like an apple, and she bets they'd taste just as sweet._

_Lifting her eyes to his again, she feels all his intensity radiating toward her, crossing the scant few inches still separating them. He's just filled with so much life! She wants to touch him, to share in some of that vitality. She needs it, even. Her eyelids flutter closed. She presses forward just a little..._

_And then, just like that, she's…no, wait…he's…they're…they're kissing. His lips are even softer than she'd imagined. Soft, yet insistent; gentle, yet demanding. She feels his warm fingers slide up her neck to tangle in the back of her hair, tilting her head slightly so he can angle his mouth over hers and deepen the kiss._

* * *

Elena's eyelids fluttered and she woke with a gasp in the dark. It took her a few long seconds for awareness to sink in, to realize she was lying in bed wrapped up snug in her sheets instead of ensconced in Damon's arms in his Jeep. Disappointment and frustration surged through her. She could still feel his mouth on hers, and as she pressed her fingers to her lips she was overcome by an acute sense of loss.

Pushing the covers back reluctantly, she got up and went to the bathroom. When she returned into the warm comfort of her bed, she tried to recall the dream, but much of it had already faded, as dreams so often do.

Before falling back to sleep, she again touched her lips and tried to remember what kissing him had felt like. She couldn't quite get there, though. All that came back was an impression of comfort and safety. And then emptiness. Loneliness.

Once the cold light of tomorrow arrived, she knew she would undoubtedly feel differently. But right now, in that dream muddled fog of lazy half-awareness that only occurs in the wee hours before dawn, she wished desperately that Damon was lying here beside her.

* * *

**A/N** _Thanks so much to scarlett2112 for pre-reading and to every one of you who has left me a review! Hope you liked this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts in the little box below - it would mean a lot to me!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Over the weekend Elena spent what rare free moments she had trying very hard not to think about Friday night's dream. It worked fine when she kept busy, but while she lay in bed until the wee hours of Saturday night with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, unable to sleep even though every muscle in her body felt dead tired, visions of Damon's intense eyes - and even more intense lips - refused to be shut down, insisting on haunting her no matter how hard she tried to think of other things.

After church with her dad on Sunday, she spent the afternoon doing homework and filling out scholarship applications online. There hadn't been any new information or clues about Vickie and Tyler, so she pushed that issue to the back of her mind so she could concentrate on more pressing matters.

Most of Monday was hectic. Elena felt like she did nothing but rush from the time she dragged herself from bed to the time she got to work. Walking into the Clutch at 5:25, throwing her knapsack behind the counter and giving her dad a hug before he headed home – it all felt like a massive relief. Now all she had to do was finish the last thousand words or so of her _Gatsby_ essay and she would end the day feeling at least a small sense of accomplishment.

There were several customers hanging out, and a few more came in to pick up take-out sandwiches and pastries on their way home from work, but by the time 7:30 rolled around, it was just Elena and the town postmaster Bart Kimble chatting at the counter. And he was sipping the last of his coffee and getting ready to head home.

The bell tinkled over the door and she looked up, flushing and smiling simultaneously as she saw who was coming in. Outside it was snowing, and as Damon stepped into the warmth of the shop he removed his wool cap and shook it off, sending a flurry of snowflakes drifting to the rubber mat beneath his boots. He looked up and met her eyes, echoing her grin back at her before walking over and joining them. Elena had the coffee pot in her hand and ready before he even had a chance to pull his travel mug from his jacket.

"Is it fresh tonight?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh, you wanted fresh? I think this one's from this morning." Elena swirled the black liquid against the glass and examined it skeptically. Turning back to Damon, she gave him a wink when she took in the incredulous expression on his face. "Kidding!" she assured him, pulled his mug closer and filling it.

He laughed, and she realized she hadn't heard him laugh since their snow fight a week ago. She liked the sound of it, and secretly hoped it meant he was in a better mood tonight

As Damon sat down, Mr. Kimble stood up and wished them both a good evening. Once it was just the two of them in the coffee shop, Elena tried to relax and act natural. And not think about her dream. Or look at his lips.

She opened her laptop to the outline of her essay they'd worked up together the week before. It gave her something to focus on other than his face. In the spirit of acting normal, she asked, "How was your weekend?"

Damon shrugged. "I got through two books."

"Really? Did you do anything besides read?"

"Watched a few movies on Netflix. Worked out. Played chess with my uncle. Nothing too eventful." As he lifted his coffee and sipped, steam fogged his glasses. He took them off and set them on the counter, before looking up at her through long dark lashes. "What about you?"

"Worked. Studied. In case you haven't already guessed by now, my life is pretty boring." That gave Elena a sudden inspiration. Throwing caution to the wind, she blurted, "Would you happen to be free this Saturday night?"

Brows rising in curiosity, he replied, "I'm always free these days. Why? What did you have in mind?"

Elena debated for a second whether this was a great idea or a stupid one, then decided to just go with it. "Wanna come with me to the Lockwood's Valentine's party?"

His eyes flared. That was clearly not what he'd expected her to say. "Who're the Lockwoods?"

She explained about the mayor's many events and how Mystic Falls founding families were expected to attend if they were capable of walking upright. "I hate those kinds of things, but I have to go. It'd be a lot less tedious if you came along."

"So you want me to keep you amused?" He chuckled. "Would I have to dress up?"

With a playful grin, she replied, "Yep and yep. That okay?"

Damon frowned, turning his head to study the falling snow outside the big plate-glass windows. Elena sensed he wasn't fully comfortable with the idea and felt a sudden urge to retract the invitation, but didn't know how to do it without making things more awkward.

"Just as friends, if that makes you feel any better," she added lamely, wondering if she'd end up regretting she'd asked.

He looked back at her and for a moment she was lost in a sea of blue. One corner of his mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile. "Hey, it's not like I have anything else going on."

"Is that a 'yes', then?" Elena asked, feeling a spark of hope bloom.

"Sure, why not. Sounds like a good reason to clean up nice. Free booze?" She nodded, smiling. "Cool. You can point out any interesting people and fill me in on the gossip. Should be entertaining."

Elena flinched at the word 'gossip', but he didn't seem to notice. She reminded herself that he had no idea how many of the town's secrets she actually knew.

Damon again stayed until close. When she was busy with customers or cleaning, he read his book, and when she had time to sit and do homework or chat, he kept her company. It didn't take long for Elena to relax completely and return to feeling at ease around him. After she locked up, she walked with him to his Jeep, this time not even waiting for him to offer to drive her home. It was coated with an inch or two of snow.

They looked at the vehicle, then at one another and grinned. Before she could react, Damon dashed over to it, slid a gloved hand up the windshield and threw snow at her.

She gasped as cold clumps trickled down her cheeks. Then she started to giggle. "You're in _so_ much trouble now, mister!" she shouted, scooping up her own handful and lobbing it his way. He dodged, and she missed, but that was how the Second Great Snow War of 2014 began.

Running around to the other side of the Jeep, Damon used it for cover as he pushed an armful of snow off the roof and sent it toward her in a spray. Elena heard him laugh loudly as she whipped around so it hit her back instead of her face. She swore – and delivered – revenge, but couldn't suppress the massive smile on her face.

By the time they paused for a breath, she was laughing so hard tears rose to the corners of her eyes. Her face, hat and gloves were soaked and they were both covered in blotches of white, although the windows of the Jeep were far from clear.

Damon reached over and swiped a finger across the top of her cheek. "You have a little something on your face," he told her, grinning.

"Oh really? Cause you look like the Abominable-frickin-Snowman!"

The glow from the streetlight overhead reflected off all the white and made his eyes twinkle. "Well, we _are_ in the mountains. Or nearly, anyway. I should fit right in." He pulled off his cap and shook it off for the second time that night, his glasses spotted with droplets of melting snow.

"Guess we'll have to lay the blanket down again," Elena said, tugging open the passenger door. She pulled it from the backseat and spread it across the front ones, like Damon had done the week prior. He traded her his keys for a snowbrush, and she started the engine. Her fingers numb, she peeled off her wet gloves and rubbed her hands together in front of the vent, although it was too soon for them to be blowing any warmth.

Damon climbed inside a minute later. "Brrr," he muttered, pulling away from the curb. "Never had this much snow back home. I think I'll need to buy a parka if I'm gonna stick around here for the rest of the winter."

Elena looked at him in surprise. "You're thinking of leaving?"

He shot her a glance before returning his focus out the windshield. Shrugging, he replied, "Let's just say I'm keeping my options open."

She sat on her fingers to try to warm them up, and didn't say anything else until they'd stopped in front of her house. Shivers wracked her small frame from the damp cold. She couldn't wait to get into her cozy pajamas and even cozier bed.

Once he put the Jeep in park and turned toward her, she said, "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," he smirked.

Ignoring his smartass reply, Elena continued. "When you decide to move on to bigger and better things, would you let me know? So I don't worry if you stop coming by the shop?"

Damon's eyes widened. He turned away and began fiddling with his gloves. "Sure," he mumbled. His moods were so changeable - they nearly gave her whiplash.

"But you'll come to the party?" she pressed.

He lifted his head to look back at her with a small smile. "I said I would, and I'm a man of my word. Besides, it might be fun. And you do make pretty good company."

Elena's face grew hot, which was a welcome respite from the chill that still permeated the interior of the Jeep. The short drive to her house hadn't been enough time for the engine to warm up much.

"You're not so bad yourself."

He stared at her, but the emotions swirling behind those icy blue eyes were undecipherable. She grabbed her knapsack off the floor and put her fingers on the door handle. "Thanks for the lift, Damon. Please text me when you get in."

"Goodnight," he told her softly.

The door crunched closed behind her and she forced herself not to look back as she hurried up the walkway. Once she'd unlocked the front door, she heard him pull away from the curb, waiting before leaving to make sure she got safely inside, as he always did.

Her dad sat on the couch in the small living room watching the news. Paperwork and file folders were strewn across the coffee table underneath his slippered feet. Elena came in and sat with him for a few minutes, telling him about her day. When she mentioned she had a date for the upcoming Valentine's party, he turned his face to look at her directly, eyebrows raised. "Was that his car you just got out of?"

"Yes, Damon comes into the shop some nights and keeps me company. He's given me a lift home a few times."

"Thought you said you didn't want a boyfriend?" He smiled at his daughter, casual teasing on the surface, all concerned father underneath.

"I still don't. It's not _that_ kind of a date," she assured him quickly. "He's just a friend. Zach Salvatore's nephew – have you met him yet?"

Grayson shook his head. "Guess I'll meet him Saturday."

"Guess you will. If he doesn't back out on me." She sighed, thinking of Damon's mood swings.

"No guy in their right mind would leave _you_ high and dry, sweetie."

Elena laughed. "Thanks, Daddy. You always know just what I need to hear." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and headed down the hallway.

When she was ready for bed, she opened her laptop and finished typing out the final few paragraphs for her English essay – Damon's presence had been kind of distracting so she hadn't quite gotten her first draft done earlier. Tomorrow evening at work she'd read it over and revise as needed.

Satisfied, Elena tucked the computer into her knapsack and turned out the light. As she lay there, she remembered her earlier instructions to him. She reached out blindly and fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. There was one new text, and it was from Damon.

_Home safe and sound. You left your gloves in my car. Want me to bring them over in the morning?_

Though the idea of him showing up at her door before school - not to mention the possibility of getting a ride and skipping the bus - made her want to take him up on the offer, she forced herself to reply, _That's ok. I've got another pair. I'll get them from you later._

In less than a minute another text arrived: _How formal is this party? Tux? Jacket and tie? Button-up and dress pants?_

She smiled. The image of Damon in a tuxedo was definitely appealing, but she figured he would have to go rent one, and it wasn't necessary.

_The last option is fine. See you Saturday. Can you pick me up at 7? Or just meet there?_

_I'll be over at 7. Night._

Elena returned her phone to the dresser and rolled onto her back. Her body felt tired, but her brain refused to shut off. The rest of the house was quiet – so quiet she could hear the ticking of the clock on the mantle out in the living room and the soft chugging sounds of the fridge in the kitchen.

She tossed and turned, knowing full well why she was so restless. She had a date Saturday night with the most attractive guy she'd ever met – a guy who, under different circumstances, might even be actual boyfriend material, yet she couldn't even let herself be excited about it. There was no hope of a future there. He was clearly not interested in her that way. And even if he had been, she absolutely did not want a relationship right now.

It was easy to keep telling herself that, and easy to say aloud to others, but in the silent blackness of night when she was alone with only her overactive mind to keep her company, it was getting more and more difficult to accept.

* * *

After school a few days later, Elena was bopping around her room listening to music and getting ready for work, wondering if Damon might come by tonight, when she heard a light knock on her door. Her brother poked his head around the side of it. "Hey, can I come in for a minute?"

"Sure." She waved him forward.

He only took a step inside, clearly not intending to stay for long. Running his fingers through his hair, he looked at her uncertainly. "Um, so I was talking to Vickie on the bus home…"

"As usual," Elena said with a smile, examining her reflection in the mirror over her dresser as she brushed her dark hair up into a ponytail.

"Yeah. So…she was in a real bitch today. Told me she and Ty got into a huge fight last night."

Elena looked back at him. "Oh yeah? Did they split?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Not yet, no. Hope she dumps his ass soon though. She says he can be a real dick when he's angry."

"Did she say anything else?" Elena asked, frowning. She wondered if Vickie had any new bruises. Not that she had any way to find out, short of asking her directly, which she wasn't about to do.

"Nope." He started to leave the room.

"Jer, wait."

Her brother turned back to her, brows raised in curiosity.

"You going to the Valentine's party Saturday night?"

"Unless I can convincingly fake the flu." Jeremy smiled ruefully. Neither of them particularly enjoyed hanging out at the Lockwood mansion, no matter what the occasion.

"Good luck with that," Elena laughed. "I think we should keep our eyes and ears peeled while we're there."

"For what exactly?"

She shrugged. "I don't know…just…keep a watch on Tyler. And Vickie."

"You still think he hurt her?" Jeremy obviously didn't want to believe it, but the thought it might be true pissed him off.

"I don't know. I hope not. And I know it's technically none of our business even if he does, if she refuses to put a stop to it. But…I hate the idea of any guy thinking he has the right to control or abuse a woman." Elena paused, looking her brother right in the eyes, making sure he was paying attention to her words. "I want to make sure that's not what's going on here. And if it is, we need to help Vickie end it."

"Couldn't agree more." He flashed her a tight smile before walking out.

* * *

Once the coffee shop slowed down on Thursday night, Elena was glad to take advantage of the lull. By the time the last hour of her shift quietly rolled around, she'd put the finishing touches on her English essay, e-mailed it to her teacher, and closed the document. A sense of pleasure always came along with a job well done, and she knew she'd written a great essay – hopefully even an A+ essay.

Turning her attention to her column, she clicked open her Gmail account to see what this week's inquiries looked like. She found two messages she could answer in the paper, one that she would reply to privately and this one:

_Dear Miss Lonely Love,_

_My issue is a bit personal, but my bff says you sometimes answer questions privately, so I figured it didn't hurt to try. I know I could Google it, but we only have one computer at home and it's shared with my brother and my parents, so I don't want them to find out I'm looking up this stuff. I'm too embarrassed to ask my friends or they'll think I'm more of a loser than they already do. So I'm asking you._

_Wow, this is hard to put into words. Ok, here goes. I recently started having sex with my boyfriend. I knew it would hurt at first - and it totally did - but we've done it four times now, and it still hasn't gotten any better. It's uncomfortable for me, still kind of painful and I don't get much out of it. All my friends who've done it say it's supposed to feel good and be oh so amazing and stuff, but for me it's not. Luckily it doesn't last very long, and my boyfriend seems to really enjoy it, so I keep trying for him._

_My question is: what am I doing wrong? What can I do to make it better for me? (oh yeah, and I'm 16.)_

_Thank you!_

_Sex Advice Desired_

Elena sighed as she filed the e-mail into her _Other_ folder unanswered. She wished she could give some useful advice to SAD, she really did, but she simply couldn't. This wasn't the first time someone had written to Miss Lonely Love asking questions about sex, not by a long shot. She used to just ignore them, but a few months ago she'd begun saving them, although she wasn't really sure why.

The problem was that Elena didn't consider herself to be the least bit qualified to offer guidance about anything sex-related. She'd only done it once, over a year ago, and it hadn't exactly been an experience she would classify as fun. At the time, she'd been dating Matt Donovan – Vickie's older brother actually, who was off at Duke now. They hadn't ever been anything serious, but Elena had been depressed about her mother's death and had gone to him one afternoon and told him she didn't want to be a virgin anymore. Unsurprisingly, he'd been more than happy to help her out. The whole thing had left her decidedly underwhelmed. She'd stopped seeing Matt on a romantic basis not long after, although they'd had no problem remaining friends. And although she'd gone on a few dates here and there since then, she hadn't had any urge to try sex again. She felt vaguely guilty for not being able to reply to SAD's questions, but there was nothing she could do about it. Hopefully the girl would ask her friends after all, or find a way to use the internet without having to worry about nosy family members.

Taking a sip of hot chocolate, Elena typed out her answers to the other letters and tried to forget about it. The rapid clicking of her fingers dashing across the keyboard filled her ears, and before she knew it, it was time to go home.

* * *

It was another brutally cold night.

The Gilbert house was still and quiet as Elena lay in her bed, shivering as she stared up into the dark. She had her warmest flannel pajamas on, and had tossed an extra blanket over her comforter, but she still couldn't seem to get warm enough.

There was no wind tonight, but the icy temperatures seemed to permeate everything. Her father had salted the front step and walkway, but there were still slippery spots. She'd nearly fallen twice coming down the sidewalk of her street, eventually deciding to just walk in the road itself for better purchase under her boots.

Now she huddled under four blankets and wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps her dad had been late paying the heating bill this month. She would have to check into it in the morning, just to make sure.

Instead of changing position for the umpteenth time and getting more frustrated with her wakefulness, Elena instead reached out and switched on the lamp. Pushing back the covers, she slid from beneath them and kneeled on the floor in front of her bookshelf. Cold seeped through the floorboards, the thin carpet and the fabric of her pajamas, making her shiver. As her eyes grudgingly adjusted to the intrusion of the light, she scanned the spines, blinking, until she found the book she was searching for. She plucked it out and dove back into the relative warmth of her bed.

Letting the book fall open to the two envelopes concealed between the pages, through glassy eyes she re-read both letters from JAI. Elena wasn't quite sure why they'd even popped into her head, but once the idea got in there she'd been unable to stop herself from looking them over again. There wasn't much to the second one; he wasn't asking for any advice, just thanking her. There was no valid reason for her to feel compelled to reply to him. No reason at all.

Retrieving a pad and pen from her nightstand drawer, she propped it up again the back of the book and began to write.

_Dear JAI,_

_I have to ask: why are you shutting yourself off from another relationship ever again? I don't know how old you are, but surely that vow is a bit premature? I know you feel hurt and betrayed – badly – and I get that your trust has been shattered, but is it really worth becoming a hermit forever? Shutting yourself off from the chance of future happiness?_

_You say you met a girl and you had fun. Was there a connection there by any chance? Will you see her again? Forget the idea of dating for a moment - do you think you two could be friends?_

_I guess my point is that you didn't do anything wrong to cause the horrible situation you went through with your ex (that I know of), so why should you be punished for the rest of your life because of it? Just something to think about._

_If you want someone to talk to, you are welcome to continue to correspond with me. Sometimes it's easier to share our true feelings with anonymous strangers. Even if you just want to talk about other things, I'm here._

_Have a good week,_

_Miss LL_

Elena yawned and set the book, letters and pen on the floor beside her bed before switching off the light. Pulling up the blankets to her chin again, she turned on her side and closed her eyes, now feeling much more tired than she'd been before. The tap dripped in the bathroom down the hall. Her brother snored lightly from his room next to it. And sleep, blessed sleep, finally washed over her.

* * *

**A/N** _Thanks so much to those of you who take the time to leave me a review. You guys who review are the best readers in the world! Special thank you to scarlett2112 for pre-reading! Would love it if you would please review and me know what you think of this chapter. The next chapter is going to be the party. Thank you!  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

Damon moved from room to room, sliding books from shelves, looking them over briefly, putting them back. He trailed his fingers along various surfaces as he passed, examining at the dust he gathered with disinterest. He adjusted his glasses over and over, pacing, trying to keep his mind occupied.

The Valentine's party was tonight, and he was due to pick up Elena in a few hours. Since he'd arrived in Mystic Falls, he'd been trying to keep a low profile. Other than her, his uncle and a few random cashiers, he'd not really talked to anyone. Though he'd been to many parties, both formal and informal, in his life, the idea of attending this one – for no logical reason he could pinpoint – was making him antsy.

Damon wandered into the study. Zach sat with a glass of whisky in hand, reading the paper in front of the fire. He looked up as Damon entered the room. "Another letter for JAI came yesterday," he informed his nephew, indicating the table by Damon's elbow. "Who the hell is JAI?"

Picking up the envelope, Damon noticed the familiar rounded handwriting on the front. With a small smile, he stuffed it into his back pocket. "Long story," he mumbled, turning to go.

Zach folded the paper and set it beside him. "Your dad called this morning," he said.

Damon's spine went as stiff as his facial expression. "Oh yeah?"

"He wants to know when you're coming home."

He looked back at his uncle. "And what did you tell him?"

"That I didn't know if you were."

_Not fucking likely_, Damon thought. Out loud he asked, "How'd he take that?"

"He's worried about you, Damon. He's worried you're throwing your entire life away just cause some girl broke your heart."

_Some girl? Not just some girl – THE girl._ And if she stayed with Stefan and they married, he'd always have to look at the two of them at family gatherings and remember their betrayal. Ergo, no more family gatherings. He wasn't close to his father anyway; surely Damon's presence wouldn't be missed.

With a snort, he replied, "That's what he told you? Bullshit. He's worried about looking bad in front of his rich asshole friends if they find out he has a loser for a son."

Zach sighed. "I know things haven't been…easy between you two since your mom passed away. But he loves you. He may not show it very well, but trust me, he does. My brother's never been one to share feelings, and he hasn't been the same since he lost Isabella."

At the mention of his mother's name Damon's throat constricted. Even ten years later, thinking of her hurt. He supposed it always would. Applying the same logic to the other woman who'd broken his heart – this time deliberately – he knew he would never be able to return back into the family fold.

"Uh huh," he muttered.

His uncle's eyes held no judgment, only sympathy. "Hope one of these days you'll consider speaking to him when he calls. If you're still here next time he calls, that is."

Damon remembered Elena's request to make sure to let her know if he decided to leave town so she wouldn't worry. He thought of the pretty smile she always had for him every time she saw him come into the coffee shop. It wasn't so bad in Mystic Falls. Maybe he'd end up sticking around for a bit.

"Don't hold your breath on that one," he replied with a slight shake of his head.

"Which? You talking to your dad or you still being here?"

"The former."

"Oh good," Zach smiled. "Don't tell anyone I said so, but I kinda like having you around."

Damon chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You'll probably live to regret that admission."

His uncle's smile grew wider. "I'm sure I will."

Damon went upstairs to his room and stretched out across the bed. Using his teeth, he tore off the end of the envelope and pulled out the folded note inside. He read it over quickly.

Grabbing a pad of paper from his desk drawer, he started to scrawl a reply.

_Becoming a hermit sounds pretty good to me right now._

He stared at it for a moment before scratching it out.

_You're right. I do feel hurt and betrayed. Wouldn't you?_

With a sigh he crossed that out, too.

His pen spun in his fingers as he thought harder. Then he ripped out the messed up page and tossed it longhand toward the waste can. _Bull's-eye_! One fist pumped the air for an invisible cheering crowd. With an unblemished sheet in front of him, he pressed his lips together and began to write.

_Dear Miss LL,_

_You want to correspond? Sure, why not? I can do that. Anonymity means lack of judgment, and that is a concept I can get behind._

_I met my ex when I was 19 and she was 17, in her final year of high school. I wasn't in college; I was taking a year to "find myself" or whatever such crap I told my family anyway. Basically I was a deadbeat, living at home, spending my father's cash and hooking up with nearly every hot girl I saw._

_Until I met her. She was different from the others. Pretty, yes, but pretty girls weren't hard to come by for me. This one was far more than just pretty. She was beautiful – top-shelf beautiful. Tall, fit, and put together in all the right ways. She looked like a supermodel, and in many ways she acted like one, too._

_She wasn't into high school boys. I don't think she ever had been, even when she was just a starry-eyed freshman. She told me she always went for college guys and bad boys. I was neither. Sure, I liked to have a drink every now and then, and getting laid had never been any particular challenge, but I wasn't a true bad boy. No tattoos, no motorcycles, no cigarette dangling from my lower lip like James Dean rudely teleported into the wrong decade. I was just a lazy-ass rich kid, wasting his life away._

_(Ironically I guess I still am.)_

_So I didn't know what she saw in me, but I didn't much care either. The only thing that mattered was that she saw something. She wanted me, when a girl who looked like that could have had anybody. I never stood a chance in hell of resisting her charms. Not that I wanted to resist. I think I fell head over heels in love with her the first night we spent together._

_More fool, me, as it turned out._

_I'd never been in love before. I didn't know how one was supposed to act, or what constituted smothering, or too much pressure. I treated her like a queen. Flowers, fancy dinners, shopping trips, public declarations of love – as you can tell I was a smitten kitten. And one memorable night she told me she loved me, too, and, like the lovelorn idiot I was, I believed her._

_We were together for two years. You already know how it ended._

_Your turn._

_JAI_

Damon tore the sheet from the pad and slid it into an envelope. He'd drop it into a mailbox downtown on his way to pick up Elena. Which reminded him, he really needed to start getting ready.

* * *

"So what's he look like?"

Elena raised her right shoulder, tilting her ear to hold her phone in place as she used both hands to rummage through the bottom of her closet looking for her black heels. "He's…hold on." Finding the elusive shoes, she tugged them out and looked them over skeptically. Then she retrieved the phone from its precarious perch and straightened up.

"Um…he's tall and slim. He wears glasses and has shaggy brown hair and the most incredible blue eyes.

"So he's cute?" Bonnie asked. Elena could hear the smile in her voice.

"Very. But like I told you – this is _not_ a date." She opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of black pantyhose. God, she hated wearing pantyhose!

Bonnie chuckled. "If you say so."

"It's not! We're just friends. You know my thoughts on getting involved with anyone right now."

"Yeah, I know. But August is still a long way off. You're only a senior once, Elena. You deserve to have some fun."

Elena sighed. "I only own three pairs of jeans, yet two formal dresses hang in my closet. How is that fair? Couldn't I just trade them in for more jeans? Also, black and white floral strapless or red satin?"

"It's a Valentine's party! Definitely red satin– you look gorgeous in that one. I wanna see pictures!"

Pulling the dress from the hanger, Elena tossed it on the bed. "I'll get my dad to take a few before we leave," she replied distractedly, eyeing the fabric for stains from the last time it was worn.

"Including Damon."

She sighed again. "Fine. Including Damon. If he's willing."

Elena heard a tinkling of bells through the phone. "Okay, I'm walking into the Clutch. Talk to you tomorrow. Have an amazing time! Live on the edge and kiss a boy, will ya?"

"Bonnie! That's not-"

"Bye!" Then her friend was gone.

Elena stared at the phone for a moment, heat rushing to her cheeks as an image from her dream about Damon flashed across her mind. Setting it on her dresser, she pulled off her sweater and yoga pants and returned her attention to the dress on the bed.

By the time she heard her dad's car pull into the driveway she'd put it on and was checking herself out in the full length mirror with a doubtful expression. The dark red fabric clung to her body; was it her imagination or did it fit a bit snugger than last year? Had she put on weight? She didn't think so. Maybe her curves were just a bit…fuller now than they'd been before. Was it too tight? Was it too slutty? The last thing she wanted was for Damon to think she looked cheap.

Filled with sudden inspiration, she dashed across the hall to the master bedroom, sliding open the closet door and groping around on the shelf above the rod of dust-covered clothing. Her fingers closed around something soft and she pulled it down, her mother's favorite black shawl in her hands. Elena's heart twinged as memories came flooding back of her mom sitting on the couch in the living room swearing to herself under her breath, knitting needles flying as she reworked a section of the complicated pattern. She knew if her mother was here with her now she'd undoubtedly let Elena borrow it for the party - as long as she was careful with it.

With that thought in mind she went back to her room and closed the door, draping the lacey knit over her shoulders and re-examining her reflection. This was _much_ better. And she'd be warmer now, too, as the dress's inch-wide shoulder straps didn't do much more than hide her bra.

There was a knock on her bedroom door. "Elena?" Her father's face poked around the edge. He looked tired, but then again, of course he was tired - he'd been at the shop for eleven hours today. "You look lovely." He didn't mention the shawl, but she was sure he recognized it.

With a smile, she replied, "Thanks, Dad."

"This boy of yours will be here in a half hour?"

Elena nodded. "Yes. And he's not _my_ boy. Please don't say that in front of Damon."

"Never," her father promised, winking. "You and your brother get some dinner?"

"We had sandwiches. You know there's always enough food to feed all of Mystic Falls at these things. It's totally excessive!" She grabbed her curling iron and began to twist thick strands of hair around the barrel. "I'll be ready. I still have plenty of time."

Her dad laughed. "Sure you will. You're just like your mother – always fussing about with this or that until you're running late."

"So I'm a perfectionist – you say that like it's a bad thing!"

Grayson shook his head and smiled. "Just think about it this way: do you _really_ want me and Jer to have to entertain your boy while he waits for you?"

Elena grimaced, rolling her eyes at him. "Point taken. Now go have a quick shower and change before he gets here!"

By the time she heard the doorbell ring at just about seven o'clock on the nose, she had just finished applying lip gloss. Dropping it into her purse, she dashed for the door, elbowing her brother out of the way as he was about to answer it. She pulled it wide to find Damon waiting on her front step.

"Hey," Elena greeted him, smiling. "Come in for a minute." She gestured inward with her arm as she stepped back to allow him space to enter.

For a moment he seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped onto the mat and stomped snow from his boots, unbuttoning the top two buttons on his jacket and loosening his scarf as she shut the door behind him. His glasses were nowhere to be seen and Elena made a mental note to ask if he had contacts.

She followed the path of his eyes as they moved from his boots to her heels, gliding up her calves and over her knees, rising along the shiny fabric of her dress to her bare upper chest. Her skin seemed to sear beneath his gaze. When at last his eyes met hers, she smiled shyly, sure her face was as red as the outfit she wore.

His Adam's apple bobbed as Damon stared, eyes wide and glazed. At last he spoke. "You look…" He swallowed and tried again. "You look beautiful, Elena."

Before she could respond her dad came down the hallway toward them. He now wore his favorite plaid sport coat over a pair of charcoal gray trousers. She'd mended the cuffs of that jacket earlier, as they were getting worn in several places.

Her father smiled as he took in Damon standing there in his black felt pea coat and stunned expression. "You must be Damon," he said, extending his hand.

Damon's eyes shot back into focus. He flashed Grayson a grin as he shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir. You know my uncle Zach I think?"

"Yes, Zach's been coming into my shop for years. He's a bit of a hermit, huh? Never seems to do much socializing around town."

Shrugging, Damon said, "He went through a rough divorce before he moved here. I think he just prefers the peace and quiet, although I've put a bit of a crimp in that lately."

"Ah. And what brings you to Mystic Falls?" her father asked.

Knowing Damon's reluctance to discuss that particular subject, Elena jumped in. "Daddy, we've gotta get going. We'll see you and Jer at the party." With that, she pulled her coat from the hook and was startled when Damon took it from her hands and held it out so she could slip her arms into it. She noticed her dad watching them with clear approval in his dark eyes so much like her own.

Tugging off her heels, Elena slid into her feet into her scuffed old boots as Damon politely said goodbye to Grayson. Her brother had disappeared into his bedroom as soon as Damon arrived, so she'd have to introduce the two of them later.

As she stepped over the threshold, she felt Damon's hand brush the small of her back before he closed the door behind them. A shiver passed through her that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

* * *

The big colonial mansion loomed into view as they came around a bend in the driveway. Tiny twinkling lights adorned the columns and façade; they seemed to echo the stars, glowing pinpoints above them in the frozen night sky. Elena could tell the clear weather wouldn't last though. Coming down Route Four she'd noted tall clouds building up on the mountains, and knew they'd soon descend to dump their burden of snow.

Damon drove slowly, looking for a space to park among all the vehicles along both sides of the road. After spotting one and maneuvering into place, he instructed Elena to stay put as he came around to open her door for her.

She looked down at his extended hand for a second before slipping her gloved fingers into his. A flutter of disappointment passed through her when he dropped it again once she had both feet firmly on the ground. She scolded herself mentally for the fickle emotion.

The first scatterings of light snow began to fall as she walked up the front steps with Damon close by her side. They were greeted at the door by a young man in a tux whom Elena vaguely recognized from school. Damon helped her remove her coat, then shrugged off his own and surrendered them both to the valet while Elena switched from her boots to her heels.

Just as she'd gotten herself organized Tyler's mother swept into the front entranceway, glass of white wine in hand. "Elena Gilbert! So pleased to see you. Will your father and brother also be joining us tonight?"

"Hi Mrs. Lockwood. Yes, they'll be here any minute."

Mrs. Lockwood's eyes swept past her and landed on Damon. Her smile amped up, all white teeth against red lipstick. "And who is this handsome young man with you?"

Before Elena could respond, Mrs. Lockwood turned to Damon and held out her bejeweled fingers. "I'm Carole Lockwood. Welcome to our annual Valentine's party. Can I get you a drink?" She snapped the fingers of her other hand beside her head and, as if by magic, another tuxedoed guy with a tray of wine glasses appeared at her side.

Damon cleared his throat and glanced at Elena. "This is Damon Salvatore," she told Carole. "Zach Salvatore's nephew. He's new in town." It crossed her mind that Mrs. Lockwood probably had no idea who Zach even was.

Damon took her proffered hand and gave it a quick pump. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Lockwood. You have a beautiful home. I'm glad Elena invited me to join her tonight."

She glanced between them with clear curiosity, and Elena wondered if she was trying to determine if they were a couple. Turned her full attention back to Damon, Carole said, "Welcome to Mystic Falls, Damon. I'm sure you'll love our beautiful little town, especially once it warms up a bit." She plucked two glasses of wine from the waiter's tray and put them in Damon and Elena's hands. "Please make yourself at home. Elena can give you the grand tour." She paused, looking Damon up and down once again. "Or, if you'd like, I'd be happy to make time to show you around myself."

"Thank you. I'm sure Elena will take care of me tonight," he responded politely.

Carole laughed, winking at Elena. "I'm sure she will." Then she sauntered off to join the guests in the adjacent room.

Elena's face grew warm at the double-entendre, memories from her dream flashing through her mind.

"She seems like a piece of work," Damon muttered, leaning close to her ear as they started down the hallway.

Elena rolled her eyes. "That's one way of putting it. If you see her even once tonight without a drink in her hand, I'll buy your coffee for the next week."

That earned her a smile. "Lush?"

"Pretty much." Elena raised her glass to her lips. The wine was tart, but had a nice fruity aftertaste. She took a second sip.

Damon raised a brow at her. "Underage drinking tonight, are we? What will your father say about that? And will I get blamed?"

With a laugh, Elena replied, "Don't worry about Dad." She upended the remainder of the wine into her mouth, swished it around and swallowed it as she held his bemused gaze.

He stared at her for a moment before chuckling. "Planning on tying one on tonight? Is that why you invited me? To carry you out of here later?" Elena snorted, shaking her head. He took a swig from his own glass and grimaced. "First stop on our little tour: show me the bar. I need a real drink."

A slight buzz was already starting and, taking advantage of the courage it brought, she linked her hand through his elbow and guided him into the large living room. As they approached the bar along the back, she heard a familiar laugh. Craning her neck to see around the tall man in front of her, Elena spotted Caroline standing at the bar sipping a drink and talking to her date, Jesse.

Jesse Jordan played on the basketball team with Jeremy and Tyler, but he didn't run in the same crowds as either of them. He was a good foot taller than Caroline, with close cropped dark hair and high cheekbones. At the moment she was in full flirt mode with one had a hand on his arm as she stretched on her tiptoes to whisper something to him.

Elena decided now was as good a time as any to go over and get the necessary hellos out of the way. She tugged Damon toward the bar.

"Hey Care," she said as they approaching the couple. Caroline wore a baby pink strapless sheath that showcased her every curve - and she had plenty of them. Jesse could barely keep his eyes off her generous cleavage.

Caroline greeted her with a smile. "Hi Elena." Then her gaze lifted over Elena's shoulder and landed on Damon. Her deep blue eyes flared. She leaned in close to Elena's ear and dropped her voice. "Who's your date?"

Elena felt her cheeks heat up again and she released Damon's arm. "He's um…he's not-"

"Damon," he cut in. "Great to meetcha." He gave the blonde a polite grin.

"Oh…um…" For once in her life, Caroline Forbes seemed to be at a loss for words. "You, too," she replied, finally re-finding her trademark dazzling smile.

Jesse introduced himself, and he and Damon turned to the bartender to order drinks, leaving Caroline staring at Elena with what could only be interpreted as blatant admiration.

"He's hot!" she mouthed, darting her eyes in Damon's direction, just in case Elena was too dumb to realize who she meant.

"I know," Elena mouthed back, feigning nonchalance as she leaned her back against the bar. Let Caroline think Damon was her date. Why not? It might be good for her reputation if the other girls at school thought she had an attractive older boyfriend. Even if it wasn't true.

Once Caroline and Jesse wandered off to greet some new arrivals, Damon slid over until his shoulder brushed Elena's. He had a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hand. "She a friend of yours?"

"Who? Caroline? Sort of. Not really. I mean, we know each other, but…"

"You're not close," Damon finished, taking a sip from his glass as his eyes wandered over the huddles of people. It seemed like more were coming in every minute.

"Not especially, no."

Jeremy picked that moment to walk into the room. He scanned the crowd until his eyes connected with his sister. "My brother's here," Elena told Damon.

"Where?"

There was no need to point him out; he walked right up to them. "Hey, 'Lena. You seen Vickie around here anywhere?" He spared only a disinterested glance at Damon.

"Not yet, no. I haven't seen Ty yet either."

"Okay." Jeremy turned to go, presumably to continue searching for his friend, but Elena called him back.

He turned around with one eyebrow raised. "What?"

Elena motioned to Damon. "This is Damon," she said.

Jeremy gave him the once-over. "Okay."

"Jeremy! Don't be rude." She turned to Damon. "This is my obnoxious little brother."

Damon chuckled. "I've got one of those, too." He stuck a hand out to Jeremy. "Nice to meetcha dude."

They held eye contact for a moment; it appeared to Elena like each was sizing up the other, challenging the other…for what? She had no idea. Then her brother broke into a smile and any tension there had been – if it hadn't been only her imagination – dissipated.

"You, too. Catch you guys later." Jeremy headed off toward the dining room, leaving a somewhat bewildered Elena to mentally regroup. Her brother hadn't seen her with a guy since she'd broken up with Matt, so his overprotective sibling instincts had probably just kicked in for a moment. She made a mental note to set him straight on her continued singleness later.

Elena looked up at Damon at the same time he was looking down at her. "Feel like continuing my tour?" he asked.

She showed him the rest of the sprawling main floor. He was most impressed with the modern and well-equipped kitchen. It was crawling with caterers and waiters, so they didn't linger, but she noticed the covetous admiration on his face as he checked out all the high-tech appliances.

"You cook?" she asked, trying to hide the note of surprise from her voice. Her father and brother weren't capable of much more than grilled cheese or bacon and eggs.

Damon chuckled. "My mom taught me when I was a kid, and our housekeeper showed me more stuff as I got older. She sometimes had to shoo me out of the kitchen when I got in her way too much."

Elena smiled, trying to imagine what Damon had looked like as a kid. She just couldn't do it; all she could picture was the man in front of her, but smaller.

Jeremy appeared at her side, beer in hand. "You're drinking?" she asked, brows raised.

Her brother rolled his eyes. "So're you. How else are we supposed to make it through this thing?"

"Does Dad know?"

"I'll just say I'm holding it for Damon if he asks."

Now it was Elena's turn for an eye roll. "Did you find Vickie?"

With a sigh, Jeremy said, "Yeah. Last I saw she was dancing with Ty." He gestured toward the living room where space had been cleared in the middle to make a temporary dance floor. A few couples were dancing, but most people still just stood around the periphery and chatted with their drinks in hand. More alcohol would need to flow before the floor would really get jumping.

Jeremy wandered off toward the study. Elena looked back at Damon in time to see him set his empty tumbler on a nearby counter. "Which way to the powder room?" he mock-whispered.

She showed him to the washroom near the front entranceway, but it was occupied. "C'mon," she said, pointing to the curved wooden staircase.

Raising an eyebrow, Damon's lip curled into a smirk. "Taking me upstairs? What would your father say?" He added a wink to ensure she got that he was teasing.

Elena flushed, but smiled back. 'You hafta pee or not?"

She started up the steps and he obediently followed. They turned right and went down the hall until she paused in front of a partially open door. "In there," she motioned. "I'll wait at the top of the stairs." Damon disappeared inside.

The general cacophony of chatter and music from the party drifted up to Elena where she stood, arms on the balcony rail, looking down at the people milling about in the entranceway below. She liked this. Being the unseen observer instead of the participant was much more her style; she tended to prefer a bit of distance between herself and all the action.

"I said, stop!"

With a jolt, her head swiveled in the direction of the yell. The voice was female, and sounded familiar. She took a few cautious steps along the hallway in the opposite direction from the bathroom.

She heard a responding low rumble that sounded male. Elena couldn't make out the words.

"Take your hands off me!"

Elena's eyes widened. Was that Vickie? Fighting with Tyler? She tiptoed closer. The voices were coming from behind a closed door.

"What's your problem tonight? One minute you're hot, the next an Ice Queen. I don't get you." That was definitely Tyler.

Vickie's tone softened a bit. "There's nothing to get. I'm not playing games with you - we have to go back to the party."

"I'm sure no one will miss us for a few minutes," Tyler grumbled.

Elena heard movement within. She hurried back to the balcony in case one of them came out of the room. Her heart was pounding. Where was Jeremy? She leaned over the rail, trying to see if she could spot him.

"Hey."

She jumped back in surprise, but it was only Damon.

"Who're you looking for?" he wondered, smiling.

At the sound of a door opening down the hall, she grabbed his arm in a panic, dragging him down the stairs.

"Whoa, what's your rush?" he asked as they reached the bottom. Elena released Damon's sleeve and glanced up to see Tyler stride down the upstairs hallway, heading away from the room where she'd overheard part of his conversation. He looked annoyed.

"It's nothing," she muttered. Sighing, she took in the party, which now appeared to be in full swing. More waiters were circulating, offering guests trays of chocolate truffles and champagne. The music had slowed to romantic ballads, and the dance floor was filling up. She didn't see her dad, but spotted Jeremy dancing awkwardly with Caroline's mom over near the front windows. On impulse, Elena turned to Damon. "Can you dance?"

Surprised, he replied, "Um, sure." Before he knew it, she'd latched onto his hand and was pulling him out into the midst of the couples on the floor. At that moment the song changed to Chris DeBurgh's "Lady in Red", and Damon couldn't help but appreciate the appropriateness. He slid one arm around her waist and held her fingers up by their shoulders with the other.

Elena looked into his eyes as they began to dance. Her feet knew all the moves from years of functions like these, and they fell into step with his lead. She didn't have to concentrate on dancing, but instead of thinking about Vickie and Tyler, all her brain could focus on was the proximity of Damon's body to her own. The fresh scent of his cologne enveloped her, and as she breathed it in she felt a tightening in her lower belly. Her pulse, which had begun to return to normal, sped right back up again.

Damon's brows drew together as he looked down at her. "Something wrong?" he whispered.

She knew her cheeks were once again flaming. "No, I'm fine."

"Red is definitely your color," he told her with a small nod. She knew he meant her dress, and she appreciated the compliment, but all she could think was that her face probably matched the fabric.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

A faraway voice in her head reminded her she wanted to tell Jeremy what she'd overhead, and that she should be steering them toward her brother and Mrs. Forbes so she could switch partners and speak with him. That voice seemed small and unimportant right now.

They locked eyes and danced, moving automatically, for the first time connected both physically and mentally. Damon smiled and it was genuine, his usual defenses at least temporarily down. Elena echoed it right back to him, no longer feeling like an outsider looking in, but for once somewhere she truly wanted to be.

* * *

**A/N** _Thanks for reading! Extra thanks to scarlett2112 for prereading the first draft of this. I didn't have time to beta, so if you see errors, please tweet or DM me so I can correct them. Thanks! (I always seem to miss stuff!) Part 2 of the night of the party comes next, and things definitely are starting to get more interesting! Please review? Reviewers are the actual best! _

_PS if you want to, please follow me on twitter or tumblr: elvishgrrl_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

All too soon the song came to an end. Damon released her hand and stepped back and a vague sense of disappointment came over Elena. She tried to ignore it, reminding herself she needed to speak to Jeremy.

"Excuse me for a minute?" she said to Damon. When he nodded, she hurried after her brother, who appeared to be on his way to the kitchen.

"Jer, hold on," she called.

He stopped and turned to her. "What's up?"

Elena grabbed the fabric of his jacket sleeve and tugged him into the back study. It wasn't deserted, but at least they could hear each other without needing to yell.

"I overheard Vickie and Tyler upstairs earlier," she told him in a low voice. When he just raised an inquisitive eyebrow, she added, "Fighting."

Jeremy eyes widened. "What did you hear?"

She explained what she could, but unfortunately she hadn't caught all that much of the argument. Jeremy looked displeased, but not angry, which was good. "So it sounded like it was about sex?"

Elena shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

He frowned. "I wish I could ask her what's going on, but I don't think she'd take it very well coming from me."

"I know. I wish you could, too. Hopefully Vick can take care of herself."

"Yeah. Hope so. Thanks for telling me. If I find out anything else, I'll let you know." With that, her brother continued on his way.

Before Elena could go back into the main room in search of Damon, her father stepped into the study. When he saw her he came right over. "There you are. Been wondering where you'd gotten to."

"Hey. Yeah, it seems extra crowded this year."

Glancing around the room, he asked, "Where's your boy?"

Elena rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile. "I told you, he's not my boy, Daddy. We're just friends. Honest!"

"So you say. But I saw how you looked at him earlier. He's a good looking fella. And college isn't for months yet."

Heat rose to her cheeks. "Are you implying you'd be cool with me dating Damon? _Really_?"

Grayson laughed. "I'm your father - I don't know if I'll be," he paused, adding finger-quotes, "_cool_ with you dating anyone, ever. But I know Zach, and he says Damon's a good guy. I just want you to be happy and have a bit of fun. It's been so long since-"

"It's okay, Dad, you don't need to-"

"Since I've seen you happy, Elena," he finished.

Her throat tightened. Her father was right – she hadn't allowed herself much happiness since her mother died. None of them had. "I know," she whispered, tugging the borrowed shawl up around her shoulders. "I'm just trying to make the right choices so I can get a full scholarship, like you and Mom wanted."

Empathy filled his dark brown eyes as he put a hand on her shoulder. "What I want – what your mother and I would want – is for you to study hard, get good grades, but still find some time to enjoy your life. You're only young once. You work so hard all the time…and I'm so proud of you for it…but if you decided you wanted to do something a little selfish once in a while, something just for yourself, that would make you happy, I'd be all for it. You know?"

She nodded, exhaling a small laugh. "Don't make me cry – I'll make a mess of my makeup!"

Her father looked apologetic. "Sorry, hon. This probably wasn't the right time or place for that little speech."

"No, it's fine." She swiped the pads of her index fingers under both eyes, whisking away the moisture gathered there. "I think we're going to take off soon though, so I'll see you at home later, okay?"

"Okay. Have a good rest of your night, sweetie." Grayson patted her arm and wandered off toward the kitchen, leaving Elena to take some deep breaths and try to regain her composure. A passing waiter stopped to offer her a glass of wine from his tray. She gratefully accepted, drinking deep.

When she felt like she could again breathe without her chest aching, she returned to the main room. The dance floor was filled with elegant couples slowly spinning to Nat King Cole's classic "Unforgettable". Love felt like it really was in the air; it seemed to radiate from the faces of everyone she saw. Tyler and Vickie were dancing close together off in one corner, eyes only for each other, whatever they'd been arguing about forgotten.

For a moment, she felt jealous of all the starry-eyed couples, wishing she, too, had someone who would look at her like that. Matt had liked her, thought she was pretty, but he'd never stared at her with such clear devotion in his eyes like she saw on most of these people. No one had ever looked at her that way.

Elena shut her eyes for a moment and told herself to snap out of it. After college she'd have the rest of her life to find the man of her dreams, as Miss Lonely Love would surely advise her – if she were real, that is.

She walked around the perimeter of the room until she spotted Damon leaning against the high back of an armchair, arms folded over his chest, gazing off into the distance. His features were set in an alluring, yet implacable mask.

Approaching him, she asked, "Whatcha staring at?"

He started. "Oh, Elena. I spaced out for a moment there. Where'd you get off to?"

"Sorry for abandoning you. I needed to tell my brother something. Then my dad showed up and we ended up talking about my mom." She paused, shrugging. "And I needed a few minutes to myself after that."

Damon narrowed his eyes, looking at her closely. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She sighed, glancing at the dancers again. "I think I've done my penance for the evening. Wanna get out of here?"

He smiled. "Sounds good."

"Great. I already said bye to Dad. Let's go thank Mrs. Lockwood and grab our coats."

They wove through the crowd until they spotted Carole chatting with Marcus Fell at the bar. Marcus was a councilman who worked with her husband, the mayor. Elena had always thought he looked down his nose at her father, so she tended to ignore him.

"Hello again, Elena," Carole said before her focus shifted to Damon. "And…Damon, isn't it?"

"Yes. We're just heading out, Mrs. Lockwood. We wanted to thank you for inviting us into your beautiful home tonight." Elena smiled at her and hoped it looked genuine.

"Oh, you're leaving so soon? The party's just getting started!" Again, her gaze darted to Damon. Elena had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. There was no denying he was attractive, but he was only four years older than Tyler, for God's sake!

"I want to get Elena home safely," Damon answered for her. "Looks like the roads are starting to get bad out there."

Carole seemed surprised. "Are they? I hadn't noticed. Maybe that's why Caroline Forbes and her date left already."

Elena held back a knowing grin. She knew exactly why Caroline and Jesse had slipped out early, and it had nothing to do with the road conditions.

They said their goodbyes and went into the entranceway, where Damon asked one of the valets to retrieve their jackets. As they waited, Jeremy passed through with another beer in his hand. He stopped when he saw them.

"You guys taking off?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty much done," Elena replied.

"Dad wants to stick around awhile longer. He's talking sidewalk de-icing with one of the city council dudes. I'll see ya later."

Before her brother could walk away, Elena remembered Bonnie's request for a photo of Damon and herself tonight, all dressed up pretty. "Jer, wait." She rummaged in her purse for her phone.

"What?"

"Can you…hold on." She sighed, looking back up at him. "I was gonna ask you to take a pic of us, but I can't find my phone." With a frown she added, "I think I might've left it on my dresser." From the corner of her eye, she saw Damon glance at her in surprise.

Jeremy's brows shot up comically. "You? Forget your phone? That's like you forgetting a finger!"

Elena rolled her eyes. "Very funny. You have yours?"

"Yeah."

"Can you take it please?"

Still chuckling, her brother said, "Sure." He held his phone in front of his face, one eye squinting at the image on the small screen. "Snuggle close, you two."

She felt her cheeks heat up – no, check that – her entire body heat up as Damon slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against his side.

As she was tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the flash went off. "Take another one. I wasn't ready!" she exclaimed with a note of irritation.

Jeremy sighed. "Fine. Now smile pretty. Three, two, go."

Damon and Elena both grinned as he took another shot. Jeremy held his phone out for his sister's approval.

Elena scrutinized the photo carefully. Damon's hand was on the side of her lower ribcage and his head leaned close to hers, looking for all the world like this was something he did every day, cuddle up to her. He was grinning, with eyes flared wide. The flash had been bright enough that you could clearly see their particular shade of intense blue, even in the dim light of the Lockwood's front hallway. He looked sinfully delicious, but then again, he always did. Turning her attention to herself, she thought she appeared…young. And kind of tired. But the smile on her face was genuine, so it would have to do.

"Thanks, bro. That's great. Can you send it to my phone?"

"Will do. Night." With that, he disappeared down the hallway.

Seconds later the valet came around the corner with their jackets. Damon took them both and tucked a folded bill into the guy's hand, earning a grateful smile. Turning to Elena, he again held her coat out for her to slip her arms into. She wondered if his mother had taught him such good manners, or if he'd just picked these things up on his own. None of the boys she knew behaved like that.

When they stepped outside, Elena was not all that surprised to see it was snowing. What surprised her, however, was how much had fallen in the two hours and a bit that they'd been indoors. Every car, every hedge, every branch of every tree was coated in a thick shroud of white. Fat snowflakes poured down, making even seeing across to the other side of the driveway difficult.

"Wait here," Damon told her, taking in the conditions with concern. "I'll go clean off the Jeep and pull it up."

"Thanks. I guess we'll have to forgo a snow fight tonight, huh?"

He flashed her a smirk. "I'm up for it if you are. With you hampered by that tight little dress I might even have the advantage for once."

Elena laughed. "True. But I think I'd better pass this time, if you don't mind too much. I'll let you win the next one to make up for it."

"Let me win?" He chuckled. "I don't think so. Next time I'll kick your ass fair and square." Before she could protest, he added, "I'll be right back." Trotting down the steps, he made his way to where the Jeep was parked along the driveway. It wore a heavy white blanket.

In the time she stood waiting under the porch overhang, two older couples she knew also left, stopping to say goodbye to Elena as they walked past. She shivered under her woolen coat as she watched Damon in the distance clearing off snow. At long last he pulled up in front of the entrance, jumped out and came around to open her door. Holding out a hand, he helped her down the steps and guided her safely inside the vehicle. She gave him a grateful smile, impressed by all his chivalry.

"I'm sure the main road will be better," he remarked as the Jeep pushed through the snow along the driveway. They turned onto Route Four, heading back toward town. Tire tracks split the layer of white on the pavement, but it was obvious no plows had been along yet.

Damon was silent, concentrating on driving. The snow sleeted down in the glow of his headlights. The rhythmic thump and swish of the windshield wipers filled the interior; they had their work cut out for them tonight.

They'd only been driving for a little over five minutes when two spots of red glowed through the swirling white in front of them. A road block. Elena's hands clenched into fists as she realized there must have been an accident up ahead. She prayed there hadn't been any serious injuries, and was relieved she knew her father and brother were still at the Lockwood's.

Pumping the brakes a few times, Damon pulled over to the shoulder as smoothly as he could without losing control. "Guess we'll have to find another way," he said with a frown. "Or should we just go back to the party and hope the plows get things cleaned up in a few more hours?"

Without any hesitation Elena replied, "No. I know a way. Go back about half a mile and there'll be a road on the left. I can to get us to my place from there."

"You really don't want to return, huh?"

She laughed. "I really don't."

Damon made a three-point turn – which actually ended up being more like a four or five-point turn to keep them out of the ditch – and headed back the way they'd come. He drove carefully, keeping an eye on the left side of the highway for a side road. The reduced visibility didn't help.

"There it is," Elena said suddenly, pointing.

He was almost past it when he spotted the narrow road, and he hit the brakes harder than he'd intended. The Jeep began to fish-tail, but Damon steered into the skid and brought them around the corner safely.

Elena had been in her dad's car in conditions like this many times, and although it made her a bit nervous, after eighteen winters she was pretty used to it. And she already knew Damon was a good driver.

"Okay, so we go down this road for a couple miles and then there'll be another turn on the left. It winds a bit, but will eventually bring us out to the back side of town." She reached over and switched the stereo on, but the storm had made the local signal too full of static to understand. Damon hit the CD button instead and the thumping of the wiper blades became lost behind a melodious male voice accompanied by a gentle guitar.

"Oh," Elena said. "This is pretty."

Damon spared a glance her way. "It's Father John Misty. Formerly of Fleet Foxes. Heard of them?"

She shook her head.

"They're from Seattle. Indie rock. I saw them play live in Richmond two years ago and they were amazing."

"Huh. Believe it or not, I've never been to a concert," she admitted.

"Really?" He darted his eyes to her again. "Elena, have you ever been out of Mystic Falls?"

"Of course! Well, do school trips to a museum in Lynchburg and to see play in Roanoke count?"

"Um, not really." He chuckled. "That's just-"

"Sad. I know," she finished for him.

"I wasn't going to say sad," he protested.

Elena laughed. "Sure you were. I know I have no life. But I'll be getting out of here for college at the end of summer. Though it sure feels like it right now, it's really not so far away."

He was just about to speak again, possibly to explain what he really meant to say, when she loudly interjected, "Crap! There's the turn!"

Too late, the Jeep sailed right on past it. Damon came to a careful stop and put it in reverse, backing up slowly until he could negotiate the turn. This road was in even worse shape than the last one. He suspected there was now gravel underneath the thick layer of snow instead of pavement.

The driving snowflakes reflected the glow from his headlights back at them, making seeing their surroundings nearly impossible. Damon tried to stay in what he assumed was the middle of the road, away from the sides where they might get stuck. When it bent to the right, he heard Elena mutter, "Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just…that didn't seem right. But I haven't been on this road since last summer."

Now they were on an uphill incline that seemed to be growing steeper. Then came another sharp curve, this time to the left.

"Huh. I don't know, Damon. I'm starting to think we must have gotten on the wrong road somehow."

"Should I turn around?" He nudged the brakes.

Elena leaned forward, squinting through the windshield into the gloom. "Maybe?"

Damon brought the Jeep to a halt on the slope. As he gripped the steering wheel and shifted into reverse again, Elena couldn't help noticing how white his knuckles were against the black leather. They began to edge backward, curving to the left as he attempted to make another three-point turn.

Suddenly the nose swung higher as they slid downhill. Fast.

"Fuck!" Damon exclaimed, as with a crunching sound the rear of vehicle came to an abrupt stop. Against a snow bank. In what could only be the ditch.

Father John still sang his sweet song, while the headlights illuminated nothing but swirling clouds of white.

* * *

Elena gasped, unable to find her voice to speak.

"Are you okay?" Damon asked anxiously. His eyes were filled with worry.

She inhaled another deep breath and took mental inventory of her body's well-being. "Yeah," she managed. "You?"

"I'm fine. But I don't think I can get us out of this."

She focused on the position of the vehicle. "The back end's in the ditch?"

"Seems that way. I'm really sorry, Elena. Your dad's gonna kill me. You don't happen to have the number for the nearest tow truck on your phone, do you?" He reached out to silence the stereo.

She rummaged around on the floor until she found her clutch – it had rolled beneath her seat. She groped around inside, but didn't feel her phone. At first she was confused. Where was her phone? Then she remembered. "Oh, crap. I forgot. I left it on my dresser earlier. Can I use yours to call my brother?"

Damon pulled his phone from inside his jacket and handed it to her. "Thanks," she muttered. She held her finger over the numbers, but her mind was blank, still in shock maybe. It took her a moment to realize she didn't actually know his number. It was stored in her phone along with all the other numbers, but she didn't have it memorized. She stared down at the keypad, trying to make her brain work, trying to just _think_.

Finally she handed it back to Damon with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I don't remember Jer's number. Can you call Zach? Ask him to please look up the number for Mayor Lockwood's house for us?"

"Don't be sorry. I'm the one who got us stuck." He hit a few buttons. After what seemed like a very long time, Elena heard him speak to his uncle. He explained the situation and then waited while Zach went to retrieve the town directory. A couple minutes later, Damon punched in the Lockwood's number and returned his phone to Elena. "You'd better make it quick," he whispered. "The battery's getting low."

Her eyes widened as she held it to her ear. Very soon they would be without a way to communicate. Which might become a serious problem.

"'Lo?" a male voice answered.

"Hi, this is Elena Gilbert calling. Could you please find my father, Grayson Gilbert, and put him on the phone? It's a bit of an emergency."

"Hold on." She heard the clunk of the receiver being dropped against a hard surface.

The sound of music and people talking in the background filtered in. The wait felt like an eternity as Elena eyed Damon with worry. What if his phone died before her dad got there?

She held her breath and prayed: _Pick up, please just pick up already!_

"Elena?" It was Grayson, and he sounded alarmed. "What's going on? You guys alright?"

With a relieved sigh, she said, "Yes, Daddy. We're fine, but we've gotten stuck in a ditch on one of the back roads. We need your help."

She described the route they'd taken and he assured her he would call Dougie Washburn, who owned Mystic Falls' sole tow truck, to come pull them out just as soon as he hung up. He was gone before she could explain that the only phone they had was about to lose its charge.

Handing it back to Damon, Elena pulled her coat tighter around her. "He's calling the tow truck for us. Hopefully we won't be stranded out here for long."

Damon pressed his lips into a tight line and looked away.

"What?"

"I hope it's not too long." He sighed, turning back to her. "Because that's not our only shitty luck tonight. I'm almost out of gas."

Elena sucked in a sharp breath. "Are you kidding?"

"I would not kid you about something like that. I meant to fill up before I picked you up and was running short on time, so I just figured I'd do it later." He shook his head, smacking the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. "I'm _such_ an idiot!"

"How much is left?"

Damon leaned forward to examine the gauge on the dash. "Not much. We should probably shut it off to conserve what's remaining, just in case we get too cold waiting and need to turn the heat back on."

"Oh." Her brain still felt thick. It must be from the wine, she thought. She wasn't used to drinking.

With clear reluctance, Damon killed the engine. He stretched an arm behind her into the back seat and retrieved the plaid blanket. "This should help you keep warm," he told her, unfolding it and spreading it across her lap.

"What about you?"

He pulled his gloves from his pocket and put them on. "I'll be fine," he replied grimly.

When the motor stopped, all light from the dashboard and headlights went off with it. They sat for a few minutes without speaking, listening to the wind gusting around the sides of the Jeep and peppering snow pellets against the glass.

Elena was not dressed to be outdoors in weather like this, but she tried to conceal her growing chills. Eventually her eyes adjusted to the sparse light from the white outside reflected into the vehicle. Looking at Damon's profile as he stared into space, she swore she saw him shivering.

"You're cold."

He glanced at her. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry. Someone will show up to pull us out soon."

She thought about the accident out on Route Four, and the road conditions, and the people who would be driving on them as they left the Valentine's party, and the strong possibility they were not the only ones in need of help tonight. "It might be a while," she said doubtfully.

Damon was quiet for a few moments. Then he turned to her. "Why don't we play a game to pass the time?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Flashing a mischievous smile, he asked, "Have you ever played _Never Have I Ever_?"

Elena's brows shot up in surprise. "No, but I know what it is. Isn't that a drinking game?"

"Usually, yep. But we can play it without doing shots."

"So instead of drinking, we just admit if we haven't…done stuff, then?"

He exhaled a low chuckle. "I'm game if you are. What d'ya say?"

With her mind still fuzzy from alcohol, Elena wasn't sure a game where you admitted your life inexperience was such a great idea. On the other hand, it could be a good opportunity to get to know Damon better, and it _would_ help keep them amused while they waited. She shrugged. "Okay. You first."

He thought for a moment. "Never have I ever…worked in a coffee shop."

She laughed. "Well you already know I do, so that one doesn't really count. Hmm. Never have I ever…smoked a cigarette."

In the dim light she saw one of his eyebrows arch. "I bet you think I have to take an invisible shot right now. But you'd be wrong."

"Really?" She was definitely not expecting that.

"Really. My mom had asthma, and my brother has it, too. Smoking was always verboten, and I never had any urge to try it."

"Huh. Okay, your turn."

"Never have I ever…shot up heroin."

Elena snorted. "That's good to know. Obviously I haven't either."

"Hey, you might have! I don't know what you're like when I'm not around. Maybe you're a party girl?"

She pulled the blanket up tighter around her. "Never have I ever been a party girl. Like you ever once thought I was!"

"Me, neither - although I've been to my fair share of parties." He got quiet as he tried to think of something good. With a lecherous smirk, he said, "Never have I ever…had a three-way."

Clapping a hand to her mouth, she stifled a laugh. "Um…never have I-'"

"Hold on, you didn't answer my Never!" Damon interrupted.

Her cheeks were hot; it was the only part of her that was right now. "No! Of course I haven't! I've barely…" She stopped. Was she really prepared to talk about sex with him? The fog over her mind had started to clear, but only a little. She sighed. "I've barely done anything, let alone something crazy like that."

"Touchy subject?" Elena could hear the smile in his voice.

"No, it's okay." She looked out the window, but could see nothing but shadows and snow. "We might be stuck here a while. I trust that whatever we admit from this little game will be kept in strictest confidence?"

"Of course. Cross my heart." He made motions in the shape of an X in front of his chest.

"Fine." She took a deep breath. "Never have I ever done…um…oral."

Damon's head swiveled toward her. She held her breath, waiting for the laugh, waiting for the shock. She didn't get either. "Truth?"

"Truth."

"You got me on that one," he said evenly, raising his fist toward his mouth and pretend-shooting a drink. He stared at her for a few moments. Then his voice softened. "Are you a virgin, Elena?"

She looked away, pursing her lips. "That's a bit personal, isn't it?"

"This whole game is personal. We're getting know one another, right? And I promised I'd never reveal your secrets."

Her mind flashed to Vickie and Tyler's earlier argument_. You don't know the half of my secrets_, she thought.

With resignation, she said, "Since you didn't phrase it with a 'Never have I ever' I don't think I have to answer that. But I will anyway, just because. No. I'm not."

"Ah."

Elena turned her face back toward him. "Are you surprised?"

"No, not really. Are you embarrassed to talk about this stuff?"

A wave of shivers came over her. She rearranged the blanket over her lap again and hoped he hadn't noticed. "It's fine." Another quiet sigh. "Your turn."

Damon frowned. "You're freezing." He turned the engine back on, and air began to blow from the vents, making her shake harder. She wanted to tell him he should save what gas was left, but the idea of heat was just too tempting.

They played for a while longer, each trying to keep the subjects as light as they could manage. Elena learned that Damon had never played football, eaten at Cracker Barrel or seen _The Bachelor_. Damon learned that Elena had never sung karaoke, seen the ocean, or flown in an airplane. By the time the engine sputtered and stopped, he was imagining taking her on a trip down to Miami so they could swim in the sea during the day and get drunk in karaoke bars at night. Just as friends of course. Although she _was_ incredibly sexy in that red dress that showed so much leg. And just as he was mentally reprimanding himself for thinking those thoughts, the gas ran out.

"Don't worry," he blurted. "The tow truck will be here any minute and I'll pay him to take you home first and then drop the Jeep at the gas station. Everything will be fine."

"D-do I seem worried?"

He looked at her with concern. "You seem cold. I might have another blanket in the back. Let me look." With that he twisted around and scrambled over the center console into the backseat, reaching into the storage space behind it and feeling around. After a minute, he sighed. "Nope. Sorry. I guess there's just the one."

Elena swiveled to look at him, eyes wide in the dark. "You're just as cold as I am, Damon. What if they can't find us for hours yet? It's still snowing like crazy, and I'm not even sure which side road we're on. We could be stuck here all night!"

He was quiet for a few moments. Then: "Don't freak out."

"I'm not," she replied. She shifted around so her knees were under her, her body now facing him. "Stay right there." There was no easy way to do it, but she tried to keep the blanket around her lower half for the sake of modesty while she climbed inelegantly into the backseat, finally landing on the leather beside Damon.

Unwrapping it from her body, she shifted until her leg was right beside his and tucked the thick wool around both of them. "We need to conserve as much heat as we can."

The moment her body touched his, Damon went still; even his breath seemed freeze in his lungs. Elena wasn't sure if she'd crossed some invisible boundary, but right now she wasn't sure she cared. Luckily she didn't have to worry about it for long. A few seconds later he lifted his right arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

"Is that better?" she whispered after a minute or so of…not exactly awkward, but not totally comfortable silence.

He didn't answer right away. Then he murmured, "Yes. Thank you."

Elena had an idea to help break this new tension between them. "Do you wanna play some other game to keep us occupied while we wait?"

"What are you thinking?"

"Um. Well, along the same lines as the other one, how about _Truth or Dare_?"

Damon chuckled. "_That_ could get real interesting real fast, considering our very limited position at the moment."

With a smile, she replied, "Something to bear in mind. You go first."

He slid his arm down her back so it rested against her waist, shifted so his head was next to hers, ear pressed to the back of the seat, eyes locked on each other. "Truth or dare, Elena?"

Without hesitation she said, "Truth."

Damon was silent a moment. Then he smiled. "I'll make the first one easy. What perfume are you wearing?"

"It's…" She stopped herself with a small laugh. "You're going to think it's weird, but it's actually just an essential oil I dabbed on my pulse points. My mom used to use it. It's bergamot."

"It smells fantastic."

"Thanks." Elena smiled as his fingers moved against her side, rubbing lightly over her thick coat. "My turn. Truth or dare?

He shrugged. "I'll go with truth, too."

"Okay. Do you wear contacts?"

"Yes, occasionally. I usually can't be bothered though. Okay, enough with the easy questions. Time to amp up the difficulty level. Truth or dare?"

Laughing softly, she said, "I'm sticking with truth."

"Hmm." Elena thought she saw a ghost of a smile in the dim light. "I've got one. Have you ever been in love?"

"Nope," she answered without even a single second's hesitation. "That wasn't difficult at all. My turn again. Truth or dare, Damon?"

"Let's live on the edge a little. Dare."

Elena stared at him and remembered her dream. The wine buzz made her feel brave, made her feel like just once trying to be someone else, someone who wasn't always so straight laced. Bonnie's parting words from earlier popped into her mind. _Kiss a boy, will ya?_ And she decided maybe now was a good time to take a leap. What was the worst that could happen, right?

She took a deep breath. "I dare you to kiss me."

* * *

**A/N** _Sorry for the cliffhanger! Hope you guys liked this chapter. Thanks to scarlett2112 for prereading for me. Extra huge thanks to all of you who take the minute out of your life to stop and leave me a review. Reviewers are the best readers and I love & appreciate all of you! It would mean a lot to me if you'd let me know what you think. Chapter 8 will hopefully be worth the wait. Happy Easter to those of you to celebrate it! :)_


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